


Reclamations

by Snarky_Snakes



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, F/M, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Romance, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 160,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28023534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarky_Snakes/pseuds/Snarky_Snakes
Summary: It was everyone's worst nightmare. The Thalmor, the Imperials, and most definitely the Nords. The Stormcloaks were enraged, they denied and rejected the claim. They cried out foul treachery and evil magic caused this abomination. Emperor Titus Mede ll feared it was the Divines themselves showing the future of his people; he began to order brandy by the barrel. The Thalmor were disgusted and outraged, but Elenwen couldn't allow this new weapon to get out of their control.For Gadheriel it was devastating, but sometimes the best things in life can come from such horrid circumstances.Lord Akatosh, what were you thinking making a Thalmor the Dragonborn?
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ondolemar, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Tullius
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	1. Disprove Elven Superiority

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first fic posted here, or even for the fandom, though I have played ESO and Skyrim for a few years now. I have terrible punctuation--I do apologize ahead of time, I am trying my best and hopefully it does not detract from the story too much. 
> 
> This story won't start in Helgen, but it will eventually get there. I am also aware that pre-civil war Ivarstead (I believe) are aligned with the Stormcloaks, I did take a few liberties with the plot, as I made Ivarstead Imperial. There are mentions of rape in this fiction.

She used to think the beauty of Skyrim’s forests were unmatched in all of Tamriel, in winter they were simply, breath-takingly magical. The glistening snow burying the frozen earth, the trees standing firm and resolute, the shining icicles hanging from their branches were dazzling. Her favorite thing to do on her days off was to go to the river and ice fish; her colleagues had thought her mad, throwing her derisive and condescending looks without the decency of hiding them, but it had never deterred her from appreciating the landscape and what it had to offer. She thought it smart to have a wide variety of skills, many of her comrades relied far too much on their magic and she had seen many fall in battle because of it. However none of her skills had helped her when she had befallen a group of rowdy Stormcloaks on the road a few days before. 

She had been sent to the smaller settlements to meet with the leaders and the people, her orders were to gather intel and begin forming positive relationships with the people there. She was quite grateful for the assignment even if everyone, including her, knew it was a demeaning task meant to punish her for her recent performances. She found it was better than drinking wine in long gowns while lying through her teeth, and by far better than being given a position at Northwatch keep. Though she doubted they would ever send her there no matter how badly she performed, if it wasn’t for her impeccable bloodline and firm beliefs in their superiority, she’d be more likely to have been sent there as a prisoner, or just outright killed. She knew Mer were better than man, it was not personal, it was just a fact. Just as a bear is far more powerful than a rabbit. For her there was no joy in it, no arrogance, no hatred. They were better suited for Tamriel, they were powerful mages and warriors, they lived far longer lives, and were far more advanced than nearly all civilizations: architecturally, intellectually, artistically and magically. Problems the lesser races had had long since been eradicated many hundred years ago in their homeland. Many of her fellow Thalmor took liberties with this knowledge, and lived, breathed and slept in their hatred, but she did not believe that their superiority meant they had to treat others so terribly. 

No, she believed it was an opportunity to help the lesser races, teach them and learn from them—even if she never used that knowledge. After all what use would ice fishing be in the Summerset Isle, or anywhere else when she could just conjure up or use some simple illusion magic to get whatever she wanted? Nonetheless she wanted to know, and only the nords knew the secrets of that—among many other things. Yet her fellows turned their noses up and missed it all in their foul attitudes and approaches to those lesser than the Altmer. It was a shame really for being so intellectually gifted they sure acted ignorant and stupid. It was this attitude that had landed her in trouble and gotten her this lousy assignment, but it could be far worse and who knew what she’d find in the wilds of Skyrim. She was to start in Rorikstead, than Falkreath to Riverwood over to Ivarstead than up to Dawnstar and Morthal before returning to Solitude to meet with General Tullius, a man she had met often enough when she was in the good graces of Elenwen. He was a brave, honorable man and a good commander, had he been an Altmer she’d have made him a personal prospect; she knew beyond a doubt that he’d be trouble to the very end when it came time for the second war. Few of the Thalmor were foolish enough to miss the amassing of weapons and armor throughout Cyrodil, or the soldiers recruiting and training and think that everything was under control.

She had paid her visits to Rorikstead, Falkreath, and Riverwood with relative ease. Riverwood had been the more welcoming and she found she quite liked it more than any other place in Skyrim. The land around the small town was beautiful, its people kind and there was a feeling of home. It reminded her of the small village she had been raised in for the first few years of her life. Rorikstead had been a nightmare, it was clear they were Stormcloak supporters, some even so brazen as to hang flags on their doors and small statuettes of Talos in their windows for all to see. The minute she had stepped into town she could feel the glares of the townfolk, the shouts and jeers. The inn was closed to her and she slept with her horse in the stable. Completely beneath her station, but the nords just didn’t understand. She could though, she didn’t think she’d appreciate being called lesser had she been born into a different race, but it couldn’t be helped. She had spent only a week there, long enough for a few ambushes, dead townfolk and stones and rotting food to be thrown at her on her way out. She had been relieved to reach Falkreath, she found her reception lukewarm but after Rorikstead it was positively welcoming, she spent most of her days talking with the Jarl and assisting the townsfolk to help the Dominion’s image, but she made sure to make time to spy on the old Jarl. Though she doubted he’d be a problem for much longer, not after he found the bottle of ale she had left in his home after breaking in. 

She spent a good month in Riverwood ‘recuperating’ from her long trip before heading out to Ivarstead. She could see the town in the distance, the smoking chimneys, the fields of wheat and corn, and the farm animals roaming about. She was reminded of a bunch of cave men who had recently discovered their ability to grow food and stack logs on top of one another to make houses they could live in. She sighed, a moment of derision later she reminded herself she had never learned to milk a cow or feed a pig. She had raised her head and forced a smile on her face, it was often best to leave a good first impression and it was there, fifty yards from the town, that a group of seven men in blue uniforms came crashing out of the dense forest to her right. Her horse startled as they screamed and raised their weapons, it reared up throwing her off its back and kicking out at the nearest Stormcloak. The wind had been knocked out of her, she lay there stunned for only a split second before rolling to her feet. The men circled her despite her efforts to not become trapped. They were closing in on her slowly she bowed her head and let them creep closer, when they were within arms reach she lit herself on fire with her magic. An inferno roared to life in a whirlwind of flames, the men screamed and jerked back she grabbed onto one and pulled him close watching as he burned to death in her vise like grip. The others had spread out and she began sending the elements to terrorize them, so attuned to her magic it was like a rhythmic dance that she never saw the archers hidden high in the trees. She felt something pierce her, sharp and painful, and then a few moments later it began to burn and her body went numb. She fell to the ground only able to look up as the men surrounded her snarling and glaring down at her. They had placed gloves on her hands that resisted magic than bound them together. 

She had awoken many hours later, it was dark and they were somewhere she had never been before. They had hammered a peg into the ground and bound her hands and wrists to it. She had been frightened and tried to talk but every time she did she had been beaten and mocked. They punched her, kicked her and spat on her. She had resisted screaming, resisted begging or pleading, she refused to give into these men, it was shameful enough that she had lost to them. She held on to that anger, it was the one protection she had left. Soon they grew bored of merely beating her and had cut her thalmor robes down the middle and ripped off her undergarments. Her heart froze and true terror set in, they laughed as they saw the fear blossom in her eyes. The snowy ground was cold against her, and the wind numbed her fingers and toes. They gleefully used their swords and daggers to cut into her, wondering aloud if elves bled the same as men. She gritted her teeth trying not to scream but the more she didn’t give in the deeper they cut until finally one of the men had plunged his dagger in fast, hard and deep and the daggers point plunged into her femur. She howled in agony as the men laughed, each taking a turn trying to yank it out, her vision darkened as she screamed until she heard the dagger break off inside of her and she wept. The following day they threw her over her horse and moved again. Tired from the pain and blood loss she barely noticed where she was, or where they were heading, she knew she was too weak to fight and powerless against them. She let herself fall into a shameful sleep until she awoke hours later thrown and tethered to the ground where she lay now. They had spent a few days here so far, from what she could gather they were waiting for something or someone but any time they caught her eavesdropping or she’d say something they would punish her. The first night was the worst of it however, they had gotten drunk and defiled her in the most heinous of ways. She could still feel their hands all over her, their toxic breath in her face, the weight of them on top of her. 

She closed her eyes against the memories assaulting her, pushing it away, as far away as she could. She was no longer clean, no longer of the highest pedigree. She had saved herself for marriage to a partner of the highest pedigree, for two hundred and fifty-seven years she remained pure. She would have no prospects, no marriage, no family, no life. She would be disgraced, thrown out, no one would look at her. Only the half-breeds or those of lowly birth in the Altmer would even consider her, and even then they would know better than to consort with her if they wanted any chance to move up in their society. That is, of course, if she lived through this, which she doubted she would. Nor did she care. They had destroyed her, every bit of her in one night, it would be better for her to die, it would certainly end the constant agony she was in. Her leg was burning like it was on fire, constantly throbbing as if broken glass was being pumped through her veins, the aching cuts and bruising on her body kept her awake, but most of all her head hurt. The night before she had feared they would violate her again, she had watched the three of them approach her and panicked. She jerked around, cursing at them and kicking out but they had merely laughed. The tallest of the men yanked her up by the head and she cried out, he tightened his grip on her hair and placed his other hand on the back of her neck gripping it tightly. The youngest of the men stepped forward with a twisted smile on his lips. He held up a dagger and moved towards her side, the other looked on in anticipation. Her heart was thudding, what was happening? 

The youngest grabbed her ear and suddenly she knew exactly what was happening. She broke completely, the very thing she had sworn not to do. She pleaded and begged them, tears bursting out of her tired eyes. She sobbed and looked up with desperation and pain in her eyes, but they had laughed, just laughed as they always did at her suffering. And then the pain came as he began to cut the tips of her ears off. She screamed in agony, flailing about but she was held tight unable to escape. She nearly vomited as the man threw the pointed tip of her ear in front of her on the ground and then he began to carve her ear, rounding it into what must be the shape of a mans. She screamed and screamed, wondering why no one was coming, how far were they in the wild? Hot tears poured down her cold and numb face as he began his work on the second ear until finally she was left with human ears and shoved head first into the ground. A burst of pain and blessed darkness surrounded her. 

Now she lay on the ground, naked with only her thin Thalmor robes between her and the snow, her body freezing cold and numb on the outside, but throbbing with agony constantly on the inside. She was going to die, she knew it, she just didn’t know when. Perhaps she should have been more like her comrades, more vicious and hateful, perhaps that was why they were alive and she was to die, tortured and alone without any honor or dignity. With no name or good breeding, her life destroyed, less than a man. She wept quietly, she just hoped that when they dumped her body she would never be found. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Why are we out here General? We’ll never make it back to Solitude before this storm passes.” Legate Darius called over the howling wind.

“I don’t expect to Legate! We’ll have to take refuge in Whiterun.” He sighed, he should have listened to the nords in his command when they had warned him a storm was brewing, but the skies had seemed so clear and the air was warm when they had set out from Solitude. There was no point in going back now though, they were almost to Ivarstead where the reports had come from, “I told you when we set out, we got a tip from some of the townsfolk, Stormcloaks have been seen in the area more often, enough that there would need to be an encampment nearby. The citizens don’t feel safe, it is our jobs to protect them.” 

He barely heard the Legate muttering about how he was the only one insane enough to be out in this kind of weather, he gave a small smile, and called, “Indeed Legate, what better way to catch them unawares? They won’t even see us coming.” As much as he was trying to keep the spirits of his disgruntled men high even he found this to be ridiculous and had more than once thought about heading to Whiterun to wait the storm out. It would be too far however, they didn’t have enough provisions to last them that long, Ivarstead was directly in the middle of Stormcloak territory and it was a miracle they hadn’t been accosted yet. He wasn’t about to tempt fate and make two passes through Stormcloak territory, he wanted to get in, do the job and get out, and if he could help it the only casualties incurred would be those damn Stormcloaks. It wasn’t enough that they had to deal with the damn elves, but now these foolish nords wanted to start a war with them. How were they to liberate them all from the Aldmeri Dominion when they were too busy waging war between themselves? Not that Ulfric cared, despite what he claimed Tullius knew that all the man truly cared about was sitting on the Throne. If he had cared for his people he wouldn’t be cutting them down, forcing them to go to war with their own brothers and sisters. And how could Ulfric possibly think he stood a chance against the Thalmor alone? Did he not recall the Great war, when all the empires forces including the nords could not stop the elves? Yet he spread foolish hope that somehow Skyrim alone would force the Dominion to their knees. Foolish. Suicidal. Ridiculous.

If it wasn’t for Ulfric’s men terrorizing everyone that wasn’t a Stormcloak he and his men could be in Castle Dour going over strategy and reviewing intel. He let the irritation burn inside him for a bit longer, it helped against the freezing cold wind but knew he’d better eradicate it sooner rather than later. It never helped to let emotions cloud good judgment, especially before a battle. “There it is sir, I can see Ivarstead in the distance, look!” 

Sure enough on the horizon specks of light and thin streaks of smoke could be seen, but that wasn’t what had caught his attention at first. He tore his eyes from the distant village and back to the path in front of him. He could see foot prints frozen in the now frozen dirt. They were all over as if many people had been dancing or fighting. This was what they had come for, he motioned his men forward and he watched as they came to the same realization. “Alright, we don’t know how far they’ve gone, or where. We’ll follow the tracks—silently—keep your eyes open at all time. I don’t want to be ambushed out here.”

“This could be a trap General.” Darius spoke up. 

He gave a curt nod, “That has occurred to me as well Legate, but we swore we’d protect Skyrim’s people not tuck our tails and run at every possibility of danger. If it’s a trap we’ll fight and make them regret it. So keep your eyes and ears open, and if you see something suspicious don’t keep it to yourself.” 

“Aye General, as you say.” 

His eyes moved over his men, two Legates and four soldiers, they weren’t many but they were some of the best. These men and women were his specialized unit. They had been trained together since they enlisted in the Legion and also bunked together so they would grow close and know each others strengths and weaknesses. They had been trained to be mobile, silent, stealthy and fight with the force of an entire battalion of soldiers. They worked well together even if they weren’t called on too often, and they jumped eagerly at a chance to prove themselves. It was all he could ask for in these types of situation. No one else seemed to have anything to say and so with a nod he turned his horse to walk beside the tracks and led on. They rode for hours in silence, their eyes peeled and ears pricked for any sign of trouble, but they had found nothing and the tracks were becoming more difficult to see. He prayed to the Divines that they would not disappear leaving them stranded in the wilderness, and a few short minutes later they discovered an abandoned camp. 

He quickly dismounted and began searching the camp for clues but all that was left were holes where the tents were, a burned out campfire and a few yards away a bloody patch of ground. He stood over it wondering what it could possibly be, had one of the Stormcloaks been injured? If so why were they over here, far away from the fire, shelter and his fellow soldiers? Or did they have a prisoner, perhaps one of Tullius’s own men, a guard, an innocent town folk who sympathized with the Empire? He breathed in deeply at the thought, his jaw clenched tight and his resolve hardened. He had planned on stopping for the night soon, but now things had changed, he would not leave an innocent to suffer god knows what at the hands of those men. He broke the news to his men as he mounted up once again a few sighed but most nodded. He was glad he had brought this unit along, they were trained to go without sleep for a long time and still perform admirably. He found the tracks leading out of the camp and once more they followed. 

All night they rode without rest, they paused to eat a few loafs of bread, cheese and ale as they watched the sunrise over the mountain and forest. He appreciated Skyrim’s beauty, perhaps not at first, he was miserable in the cold, his bones ached from past injuries that had occurred on the battlefield and he grew tired more easily. He could not deny he was aging, but thankfully his mind was still as sharp as ever and he would hold on to his position in the Legion until he could no longer be of use to his people. After a while, however, he had adapted to it and enjoyed the breath-taking sunrises and sunsets, the sound of water trickling over a grand waterfall, the fields of flowers and wildlife that stretched on endlessly. Skyrim could be brutal but it had its own allure and he could understand why the nords, as unreasonable and illogical as they often are, were so protective and fond of the place. Perhaps after the Empire’s business with the elves was finished he could take a personal leave to return and appreciate everything Skyrim had to offer without the threat of war hanging over him. 

By midday they had made it to a second abandoned camp site, it was mostly the same, except this time there was more blood staining the glistening white snow. He had no idea how long they had been imprisoned or tortured by the Stormcloaks, if they were still alive at all, but from the ash left in the burned out campfire they weren’t too far behind them. He knew he could catch up to them with one more push, he just hoped it was soon enough for this person and for them. They were even deeper into Stormcloak territory and by his calculations they were heading towards Windhelm. He looked at his men and told them to take a rest for just a few hours. He needed sleep before he could go any further, gambling that the Stormcloaks were moving by night. He made sure to cover their tracks and curled up against a tree and fell asleep rather quickly. 

When they awoke again it was with bleary eyes and sluggish movement that they mounted their horses. He found the trail once more and after a long ride he was relieved to see that the remnants of sleep had washed off his soldiers. He needed them alert especially now when they were closing in on the enemy. It was late afternoon when they saw a campfire in the forest ahead blazing strongly, he silently slid off his horse and his men followed suit. He motioned his people to follow and carefully slid his sword from its holster. Keeping low and behind trees as much as they could they creeped up the snowy embankment until they were only feet away from their tents. 

“When are we going to dump her?” One man asked as he ripped apart a leg of venison with his teeth.

“We’re not, Ulfric will want to see our little catch. He’ll want any information she has, and you know how creative Galmar can be.” Tullius knew this one had to be the commanding officer, his uniform held a cloak with the head and arms of a bear and a badge of office. He stood knowing his men would follow suit and charged forward. The Stormcloaks reacted slowly, shock clear on their faces as he and his men charged into the camp. Blades clashed with axes and shields broke on the enemies body. Blood sprayed and bodies dropped. Surprise gave them a great advantage as they were able to cut down a bunch of foot soldiers before finally the commander and his two trusted Lieutenants surrendered. They dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. “Bind the traitor Legate Darius, and check their bodies for any useful information. Argus, you check the dead. The rest of you search the camp for anything.” 

His eyes roamed the camp, if they had stuck with their pattern their captive should be only yards away. He began walking towards the edge of the clearing. At first he thought it was too late, there was no sign of anyone else, and he felt the cold drop into his stomach as he remembered his nap. Had they killed the person while he had shut his eyes? He forced himself forward despite the regret sinking into his bones, only five feet away he discovered droplets of blood. He followed them as they went from droplets to long streaks of blood and then he discovered her. The snow around her was drenched in her blood and she lay softly panting. Her golden skin was bare for all to see, cuts and bruises lined her body and dried blood was caked all over her body. She was naked, her robes cut open laying beneath her. Her honey colored eyes looked up at him in a daze, tears glistening in them. This was no imperial, nor citizen, no he recognized those robes. His blood froze and the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood up, they had captured a Thalmor. 

He stood quietly, wondering if all honor had deserted him as treacherous thoughts of leaving her to die crossed his mind. This was war after all, there would be casualties and one less Thalmor now meant one less to kill in the future. No one would even know, all he had to do was tell his men that there was no sign of the prisoner and they would not question him. And yet he hesitated to carry out what he thought the best course of action was, in all his years he had never left a victim to die. Although circumstances had never given him such a dilemma before, he could not deny she was a victim, at least of the Stormcloaks. And yet, was it not her own fault for being here? Did the Dominion not ravage their lands and kill their people, subjugating them to their rule and domination? Had she stayed in the Summerset Isle where she had belonged she would not be here. A little voice in his head reminded him in a soft voice that there was a time when the snobby elves had minded their own business but Tiber Septim had crept across their borders and slaughtered many high elves. God knows what else they did to the elves, he knew what happened in the battlefield, not all was honorable. He did not feel empathy for the Thalmor, but he understood what had led to all of this happening. He also knew that if things continued this way that there would be a never ending loop of pain and suffering, war and death. The Thalmor were no good for anyone, not even their elven-kin, they had to be defeated and broken, but after that peace should be made not plans for revenge. He just hoped others would see that too, none of that helped him with this dilemma however. To help this enemy elf or leave her to perish? He sighed knowing he must decide soon before one of his men decided to search for him. 

He glanced at her more closely, she looked so familiar but he couldn’t place her, her body was too mangled and covered in blood at first to make out who she was. He stepped closer and kneeled down next to her head, he reached his hand out and swept the hair out of her face and his eyes gleamed with recognition. He definitely knew this elf, she had been one of Elenwen’s guards, he wondered what the hell had brought her to Ivarstead. Of all the Thalmor they could have kidnapped and tortured it had to be this one. If he recalled correctly her name was Gadheriel and she was one of the more tolerable Thalmor, for as much as that was worth. She held their beliefs that Mer were superior to men, but she was not full of hate or violence. She was patronizing and condescending, at times rude and insulting, but she held no hatred of mankind like her comrades. Months ago he had received reports of a Thalmor in Solitude helping the people, he had been instantly suspicious. He knew the elves did nothing without reason, were they trying to lure Skyrim’s people into a false sense of security? Trying to obtain secrets about the land itself, or get intel about the imperials that Tullius himself wasn’t too keen on sharing? Whatever it was he had thought it could be no good. Until that night only a month before.

He had decided to take a stroll through the dark and empty city to clear his head before he laid down to rest for the night. The air was just a little bit chilly and the darkness of the night only put off by the soft orange glow of the oil lamps lining the silent streets of Solitude. He was heading towards the archway that led to the ramp down to the market place when he heard a little girls voice break the silence. 

“Papa says I won’t see Uncle Roggvir anymore, but I don’t know why.” The girls voice was so sad, he closed his eyes against it. Damn Roggvir, why did he have to open the damn gate? He had fought the Thalmor against a death sentence, he had insisted a prison sentence would have been enough but the elves were determined to see him die and his hands were tied. It didn’t make any of it easier though. 

There was silence for a few seconds before someone answered, “I’m sorry Svari, he’s dead.” 

He flinched, the voice wasn’t cold or harsh but just factual, not a way to tell someone their loved one was dead, curious of who this voice belonged to he hid in the shadows of the archway. He was surprised to see a Thalmor agent kneeling in front of this little girl, he had never seen anything like it before, not from the elves anyway. He was about to speak up, not comfortable allowing a Thalmor to further damage this child when the little girl sniffled and said, “Why would they kill my Uncle, Gadheriel, why?”

He watched in surprise as Gadheriel reached out and gently held the little girls hands, “Well, he did something really bad that made a lot of people very mad.”

“My uncle wasn’t a bad person!” Svari said angrily, “He was the best uncle in the world! He was funny and he brought me candy all the time!”

“Svari listen to me, good people can do bad things. It does not make them bad people, it makes them people. People are not all good or all bad, they are a mix of both. Just yesterday you were back talking your Mother were you not? That was bad but you are a good person. Understand?”

The child nodded slowly, “But why did he have to die?” 

“Well, sometimes grown ups do really bad things—even if they have the best of intentions, and sometimes without thinking things through. And sometimes those things are really big things. High King Torygg was murdered by Ulfric Stormcloak, and your uncle let him escape. And so he was punished.”

“But that didn’t bring the King back.” Svari whined, rubbing at her eyes. 

“No child it didn’t. I can not explain all the decisions adults make even if I am one. We make some really bad choices that we think are right based on how we see things and our own experiences. It doesn’t make them right, or okay, but that is why.”

Svari cried as quietly as she could, her little shoulders shaking, “I miss him so much.” 

Tullius was stunned as he watched this unfold but it was the look on the Thalmor’s—Gadheriel’s—face in that moment that had surprised him the most. Those honey colored elven eyes were glistening with unshed tears, she squeezed Svari’s hands gently and said, “I know you do, and you will for the rest of your life, but the pain will lessen with time.”

“How do you know?” Svari folded her arms.

Gadheriel sighed, “Because when I was a little girl my Mother and Father were killed and I was—,” the elf hesitated, he couldn’t deny his interest in this story, he wondered about the Thalmor. It would be useful to know about them when the time came to take back their land. “I was taken away, to a..a school and I was all by myself. I missed my Mother and Father so much. For years I couldn’t get them out of my head but then as I grew up I knew I couldn’t just lay around crying for the rest of my life. I was their child, I had to do something useful, meaningful. Make their lives worth something. And so I have done what I could to honor them. And when you grow up, you can do something to honor your Uncle as well.”

“Really?” Gadheriel nodded, “But what if I forget him, what if he forgets about me?”

“Who could ever forget about you? Far as I know you were his favorite niece.” 

“I was his only niece.”

“All the more reason for you to be his favorite.” Gadheriel gave her a small smile. “And I know you won’t forget him, just like I never forgot my family.” Gadheriel’s hand went to her throat and he wondered what she was doing. As he watched the elf pulled off a small chain necklace that had a tiny glowing smoky blue orb attached to it. The orb was encased in metal lace but Gadheriel held it up between them and blew on it, as her breath touched the metal lace encasing it flipped open. 

“What is that?” Svari gasped

“It is what my people call a Memory ball. Mother’s and Father’s often give them to their children when they have to be absent from their child’s life for a while.” 

“What does it do?” 

“Well it’s magic. You think of the memory, or something you want to say than you cup it in your hand and breathe on to it and the memory is trapped inside. Then when the child or whoever else, breathes on it it replays the memory. My parents gave it to me when they traveled a lot, but I’m all grown up now and I don’t need it. So I am giving it to you.” 

“What? But my uncle isn’t here to put words into it.” 

“Ah but you have memories of your uncle don’t you? Memories of him saying I love you, of his laughter, his jokes?” 

Svari nodded, “So I just think of it real hard and blow on the orb?”

“Yes, give me a second though, I want to take my memories back first my dear.” He watched as she placed a finger into the orb and the blue smoke wrapped up her finger to her arm and around her neck. It glowed bright for a few seconds before disappearing altogether. “Now hold it in your hands like this.” Gadheriel positioned the girls hands, “Think of the memory and nothing else, and then blow on the orb.” 

He watched in fascination as the child followed directions and when the child breathed on it a second time he could hear Roggvir’s voice in the chilly night air, “Ah my beautiful niece, how I love you little one!”

“To close it just snap it shut. You just keep doing that until all the memories you have are stored there and now you can hear him whenever you please.” Gadheriel said in a thick voice.

Both the elf and the child had tears in their eyes, he tensed as Svari launched herself at Gadheriel, throwing her small arms around the elves neck in a tight hug. It took a few seconds but to his utmost surprise the elf did not push the child away in disgust, or stiffen, instead she responded in kind and hugged the child. When Svari pulled away Gadheriel stood. “Go child, it is late and your parents are probably worried. They’re missing your uncle too, go home now.”

“Thank you Gadheriel. Bye.” The child said quietly looking up at Gadheriel before turning and running back home. 

He watched as the elf stood still as if frozen in time, but when she turned he could see the tears in her eyes. Their eyes met and he knew she had spotted him because in the next moment she blinked her tears away and her face became stoic and her eyes were ice cold. “You would do well General to not spy on your superiors.” She said in a frosty voice before sharply turning towards the ramp. He had watched in stunned silence as the Thalmor threw open the city gates and swept out without looking back. 

He turned his attention back to the present, to the elf on the ground who was panting and whimpering quietly in both pain and fear at his feet. Gadheriel who had shown compassion and mercy to a little girl grieving her uncle. It had surprised him to witness such an exchange between a Thalmor and a person of mankind. He had watched the Thalmor, studied them over the years as a General. They were stiff, cold and unrelenting with each other, and nothing less than that to the other races. He had never witnessed a selfless act from them, nor a single moment of affection or care. In comparison it could be said he was gentle, generous father to his troops even though he was one of the toughest and strictest General’s in the Empire’s employ. And now this same elf was at his feet brutalized by the enemy and helpless, at the whims of any that found her. Surely if one Thalmor had compassion in them there had to be others. Even if that proved wrong, there was one who did and he could use that against the Thalmor. If he were to help this one perhaps she would be grateful enough to answer his questions, or to owe him a debt he could cash in much later on. He certainly couldn’t in good conscience and with honor, leave her out here to die from the elements, enemy soldiers, or wildlife but he could easily save her and justify it all by using her later on. 

He pulled out his dagger and went to cut her hands and wrists free when she began crying out violently, her eyes filled with wild terror as she shrunk away from him. He lowered his weapon and felt the familiar burn of anger begin in his gut, they had reduced her to a wild and wounded animal. “Gadheriel. Gadheriel!” He spoke in a commanding tone until he got her attention her eyes fixed on his, “I am going to cut you free okay? I will not harm you but you must stay still, alright?” He waited until she nodded slowly before he tried again. He sliced through the thick leather ropes on her wrists and hands and watched as she yanked off the magic restraining gloves. She instantly curled into herself, he didn’t know what he had expected after all she was in no condition to run but he had expected some sort of fight or anger to come out. Even some snide comment about how mankind were nothing but disgusting filth and this just proves elven superiority. He didn’t expect her to curl into herself like a wilting, dying flower. He was speechless, not sure what to do at first, it was only when she turned her head and he saw her ears that the burning anger brought him to his senses once again. Damn Stormcloaks, cruel, sadistic scum. There was no time to dwell in his outrage, she was shivering violently. God knows how long she had been naked, he fumbled with the clasp to his cloak for a few seconds before he was able to get it detached from the rest of his armor. 

“Can you sit up for me?” He asked her quietly. 

She cried out quietly in pain as she moved into a kneeling position before him, not speaking a single word. Her head was bowed so her long silver-white tangled hair was hiding her face, her shoulders quivering as she tried to hold back tears. He threw his cloak around her, making sure it was completely wrapped around her so she was no longer exposed. He slowly slid the hood over her head to protect her ears and face. He was about to stand up and offer her a hand when she looked up suddenly, her eyes agonized and tearful. The brokenness in her eyes kept him still even as her hands shot out and grabbed onto him. She fell forward onto him so her face was pressed into his chest, the curve of her head fitting into the curve of his neck, her hands clinging desperately to him. The grip she had on his armor was fierce, like the harsh grip of death, and he could feel her fingernails biting in his chest but he didn’t move. He didn’t know what to do, no one had ever turned to him for comfort let alone clung to him, shaking, afraid and sobbing. His mind still could not wrap around the fact that it was a Thalmor who rested against him. He slowly encircled her in his arms, holding her carefully. He could feel her thin body trembling, “Don’t let them hurt me again.” She pleaded into his chest.

“They will never hurt you or anyone else again, I promise you.” He vowed firmly, “Come on, we need to get out of here, I have a feeling these men were heading to Windhelm, we aren’t too far from the city, there’ll be reinforcements soon enough searching for them.” With that he tightened his arms around her and helped her stand. She pulled away slightly so they were walking side by side but one of her hands still clung to him. She stumbled forward, whimpering with every step. She swayed and tripped nearly falling over before he realized what was wrong. Not only was she injured, starved, and cold but she had no shoes on. He sighed and pulled her to him again, she looked up at him, “General Tullius.” She said stunned, her eyes alight with recognition. 

He bowed his head towards her, “Yes. Here, we won’t get anywhere with you like this, you’ll slow us down. Hold still.” With that he slid one arm around her shoulders and one behind her knees and scooped her up. He was surprised by how light she was, as if she was a bird with hollow bones, he went to comment on this but found her clinging to him and burying her face in his chest once more. He thought it would be a cold day in hell when he saved a Thalmor, let alone comfort one but it was cold that day, and she had experienced hell. He supposed it was only fitting. They remained in silence until he spotted his men by their horses, he noted that the Lieutenants and Commander had been bound, gagged and thrown over their horses like sacks of meat. 

“General, you found the hostage, is she alright?” Darius asked, “Who is she?”

“Later Legate, for now we must get back to the keep. She’s wounded and needs a healer fast. We can ask her questions once she is healed.” He said, “Legate hold her for me.” 

“Yes sir.” Darius stepped forward, a young imperial lad with black hair and blue eyes, he reached out for Gadheriel but Tullius could not pry her off of him. 

“You must let go of me. I promise no one here will hurt you. I need to get on my horse.” He said sternly. She took a shuddering breath and let go, her arms wrapping tightly around herself. He mounted his horse, tired both physically and mentally, before reaching for her once again. Darius held her up and in mere moments she was clinging to him again, her legs dangling off the side of the horse as she snuggled into him. 

Gods what had they done to this elf? The Altmer as a race were proud and strong, and the Thalmor even more so, yet one of their agents lay in his arms curled up and broken, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. He scowled in the direction of Windhelm, yet he couldn’t help but feel that they had handed him the key to an imperial victory over both the Stormcloaks and the Aldmeri Dominion. Torn between the mindset of a General at war and his honor he looked away, turning his horse to face the way home. 

“Sir I thought we were going to Whiterun?” Legate Darius called out.

“There isn’t time for that, the best healers are in Solitude. We’re going back home.” He called out, tightening his one-armed hold on Gadheriel as his horse moved. He smiled a little as his entire troupe groaned in unison.


	2. Broken Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, here is chapter 2! Same warning's apply and I still don't own Bethesda.

His eyes were burning with exhaustion but they could not stop now. Contrary to his belief once again the storm did not die out it had gotten much worse; from the camp site where they rescued the elf resting in his arms he had led them west towards Whiterun. It was a long and arduous journey, feet of snow had fallen making travel off the beaten path impossible causing them to risk the open roads of Stormcloak territory. However even the roads and paths were obscure and hard to see, his men had taken turns running ahead trying to clear the path for the rest of them so they wouldn’t all get lost or fall into a hidden ditch or rocky river bank. They had made it as far as Valtheim Towers when a low groaning came from the mountain, he had turned just in time to see a large boulder barreling recklessly down the mountainside directly at them. He clutched the elf tight and turned his horse around, “Back! BACK!” He yelled. 

They escaped just in time, the boulder had launched into the tower utterly destroying it and causing it to topple over where they had just been. Just as he was trying to figure out the best way to get over the pile of rubble another rumble sounded from the mountain and the ground softly vibrated. At first he didn’t realize the problem but as it grew closer it was obvious: the boulders descent had disturbed the mountainside, there was a massive avalanche coming their way. Once more they made a mad dash back in the direction they had come from but this time there would be no way around it. With no path on the other side, no way to cross the river and no way past or over the blocked path Whiterun was out of reach. There was only one possible way to Solitude now, past Windhelm and Winterhold, and then through Dawnstar, all Stormcloak cities. For the tenth time that day he thought of heading to Ivarstead to let his men rest and wait out the storm and if the elf died to her wounds while waiting so be it but his damnable honor kept him from doing so. When they reached a safer area he turned to face his men, they looked like a sorry lot and he took pity on them. “Argus, Antilde, Marqis, Leilei and Legate Drefys you head back to Ivarstead, get some rest. Legate Darius you are with me. We need to split up, I need to get this elf to Solitude but there is no point in all of you coming with.”

“But sir what about the Stormcloaks? You’ll be outnumbered if they attack!” Argus piped up.

“Perhaps, but I’ll have Darius watching my back, he has the best eyes, and as he says no one but me will be out in this type of weather anyway. We’d be easier to miss with two people rather than all of us. You have your orders, be safe.” He said in a commanding tone brooking no argument. They didn’t seem very happy about it but they acquiesced and soon it was only Darius, the elf and he on the road. They made their way in silence for a good hour before he saw the black stones of Windhelm in the distance and sighed, how were they going to get by without being spotted? 

“If I may sir, if we stick to the farms we will most likely be safe. Most of the farms are run by Dark Elves and Ulfric does not bother expanding man power to protect or patrol that area.” Darius offered. 

“Very well.” He said with resignation. He did not doubt his Legate’s words, he knew that Darius had once lived in Windhelm before this war had broken out, but he still didn’t like it. He looked over at the men strapped to the back of Darius’s horse, “They might be an issue.” Darius shrugged off his cloak and threw it over the men in a pitiful attempt to hide them. “It’ll have to do, let’s go, the quicker we get through this the faster we’ll get back home.”

They quietly made their way around the city, they stuck to the outer edges of the farms skirting the edge of the forest as Darius suggested. Only when Windhelm was long behind them did they dare relax a little, “Sir, there is no road from Winterhold to Dawnstar, we’ll need to go through a valley between the mountains.” 

His jaw tightened in annoyance, what he wouldn’t give to be back in Cyrodil at the moment and not out in this gods forsaken land freezing to death. Things weren’t looking great for them at the moment. Their provisions were running low, they had treacherous lands to pass through filled with mutinous people out for their blood while a harsh and unforgiving storm raged on. He couldn’t see what else could possibly go wrong until he felt the first sharp drops of freezing rain begin to beat down on his face. He knew his horse was tired but there was no safe place to make camp where they’d survive a possible stormcloak raid and the weather. Perhaps if the storm broke he could find a cave of some sort and make a fire to rest by but until then there was no choice but to keep pushing forward and hope that his steed would not give up on him. 

For hours they traveled north of Windhelm both he and Darius keeping an eye out for the entrance to the valley, they were getting closer to the city of Winterhold and he dreaded running into patrols but thankfully he heard Darius only a few feet away call out over the wind, “Here, sir!” He did nothing to hide the uneasy look on his face, there was no point. Darius himself seemed to have some trepidation at going off the beaten path, but they merely steeled themselves and pushed forward. 

“Legate, when we get back to Solitude I am putting in the paperwork for a promotion. You deserve it.” Darius beamed proudly and straightened up on his horse.

“Thank you sir!” 

No more was said as they tried to conserve what little heat remained in their bodies for the long journey still ahead. The snow was much deeper in the valley and the ground far more unsteady. The horses legs sunk knee deep and all they could do was hope there were no rocks hidden beneath the snow. The horses stumbled about causing them to pitch forward and back. He gritted his teeth and held on tight, the wind and freezing rain felt as if small pins were being pushed into his face, he just hoped no other travelers were out and about in this weather he did not like to think about having to send men, or go himself, for a rescue mission. No, he planned to sit in his favorite armchair in Castle Dour with a burning fire before him sipping his favorite Cyrodil brandy. 

They were almost halfway through the valley according to Darius’ recollection of his years chasing bears across Skyrim trying to convince the nords he was just as a strong as they were when a blur of blue color jumped from the mountainside. He cursed the nords seeming immunity to the cold as the Stormcloaks ran towards them. His eyes darted across the valley counting at least ten soldiers; not too many but they were still out numbered and had an injured person on them. He thought about talking with them, prevailing on their sense of honor but he knew all too well that Stormcloaks would often attack before a single word could be uttered. His Legate followed his lead as he jumped from his horse, he gently placed the elf on the ground and brandished his sword. He watched astonished as the weak elf righted herself and crawled with her arms to the mountainside. She lifted herself onto the rocks her legs dangling off and used whatever strength remained in her to rain fireballs at the fast approaching Stormcloaks. He knew that they couldn’t count on her for long. She was injured, starved and far too weak to continuously assualt them let alone clinch their victory. 

He nodded at Darius and they ran forward screaming into the ranks of the enemy. He cut and slash anything that moved, keeping himself separated from his Legate. The fireballs were still coming but they were growing weaker and more pitiful, she was almost out of steam. Blood stained the snow covered ground, he turned to check on his Legate and watched in horror as the young man uttered a strangled cry as his throat was cut open and blood sprayed everywhere. “No!” He yelled as Darius fell to his knees gurgling with dazed eyes. His heart dropped as Darius landed face down in the snow and didn’t move. He turned back to fight the enemy but found they had used the distraction wisely. The rebel had closed the space between them and shoved his sword through Tullius’s gut. Agony tore through him like he had never experienced before, he slid to his knees and then onto his side on the snow. He tried to draw in air but could only take shallow breaths. His eyes dazedly raked over the battlefield, blood stained the snow around them, bodies lay crumpled over, some were still burning and his Legate lay unmoving yards away from him. 

The man had been so young and determined, always reliable and as much as Darius had complained and whined about things he did them with the utmost honor. The Legion had lost a good soldier, and he wondered who would be brought in to replace him as General when he died. Perhaps General Bastillion, that man dealt with the enemy with no mercy. He took no prisoners, it was no more than these damn rebels deserved. He didn’t dare look back to see if the elf had hidden herself, if she had it would surely give her away but the Stormcloaks were no fool, they had noticed her the minute the fire began to rain down on them. She would die out here as well, he watched weak and unable to move as he bled out as they searched. He shut his eyes in dread as one of them shouted out, “Found her! HA! It’s an elf!” He heard her scream and then a few moments later the five of them were dragging her towards a cart Darius and he had failed to notice before. 

She was struggling as much as she could, but her kicks were weak and feeble, too worn out from the past few days to do much else. His stomach churned as she writhed in their hold. One rebel had looped his arms under hers and was holding her up while another had grabbed her legs. They were laughing and mocking her and even from his position he could see the terror in her eyes. He had failed to protect her, it was his duty to see to the safety of all victims and innocents of this war and he had failed. The more she struggled against them as they tried to get her to the cart, tied up and loaded in the more his cloak slipped off her leaving her naked and in the arms of the enemies. The man supporting her torso reached around and grabbed her breast giving it a painful squeeze and then violently twisted her nipple. She shrieked in pain, but the pain and terror seemed to light a flame in her eyes and she renewed her struggles tenfold. He knew the rush of adrenaline when he saw it and prayed for her sake it’d be enough to save her from them. He cursed his helplessness and tried to get up but only managed to stumble and fall onto his side once more, the pain dragging a breathless groan from his lips. 

She managed to kick the one holding her legs in the groin causing him to shout and drop her feet, the one grabbing her arms pulled her back onto him so she wouldn’t escape. She tried to twist out of his grip but ended up knelt down before them as they circled around her. The man who had been kicked snarled angrily and punched her in the face again and again. “Damn fucking elves, you think you can come over here and tell us how to live our lives? What right do you have?” 

He winced as she took the beating without making a sound before another grabbed his comrades raised fist and said, “Not here, let’s take her to my Uncle’s cabin, he’s in Falkreath right now, we can have some fun with her there.” He felt nauseas at the look on the man’s face as his eyes raked up and down the elves naked form. His hand caressed her face and ran down her neck. “We could get her nice and warm.” He said suggestively as the others guffawed. 

“Best if we bind her here.” One said as he walked from the cart holding up some leather straps and a belt. She struggled more as they tried to bind her, kicking, hitting, twisting around and biting when she could. They tried to kick and stomp on her to get her to stop but nothing seemed to work as the elf fought for her life. Somehow they managed to bind her feet in the chaos and one man straddled her waist and grabbed her flailing wrists in a vice grip. As he was beginning to bind her wrists the strangest thing happened. She let out a piercing and shrill scream that seemed to echo across the valley and shake the ground he cringed against the sound as it pierced his ears. The world seemed to slow down, the Stormcloaks themselves seemed to be in slow motion and the air itself seemed to freeze. He could make out every snowflake, every bead of frozen rain suspended in the air. At first he thought he was seeing things, hallucinations or delusions from blood loss, but he noticed the looks of fear, confusion and shock in the Stormcloaks eyes as well, they were experiencing the same thing as he was. He looked around for whatever could be causing it but saw no one, when he glanced back he noticed the air twisting around each of the enemies back. It was like the air was fabric and was crumpling up, but when he looked closer he realized that wasn’t the case at all.

It was the drops of frozen rain. They were being pulled towards one another with a strong magnetic force. Thousands of them zipped from the air to the space behind each Stormcloaks back until they formed an ice stake, sharp and three feet long floating in mid air. His mouth opened in shock and astonishment as time seemed to right itself and then everything happened so quickly. One second the snow and rain was falling as it should and the movement of the enemies was back to normal speed and then the floating ice stakes violently pierced through the back of each Stormcloak with such force that it burst out of their chest then shattered. The rebels slammed into the ground lifeless and bloody, leaving the elf in the center shaking and terrified. She gathered her strength and crawled over to him, he had been so amazed by this feat of magic and power that he had barely noticed the edges of his vision turning black, and his body slowly going numb, he was dying. He slumped over completely, blood still poured from his wound but much slower. He looked up at her as she leaned over him, he noticed how tired she was, the adrenaline was wearing off and quickly leaving her depleted but she was trying to hold onto it by sheer force of will. He numbly watched as she placed her hand over his wound and gold light erupted from her hands and the threads of warm, gentle magic began to wrap all around him in a beautiful display of brilliance.

He didn’t notice a difference at first but soon the numbness faded, and then the pain. He was able to sit up enough to watch as the flesh in his stomach knit together, then the muscles and finally the many layers of skin until all that was left was a faint scar. She had repaired his shredded organs and mended his flesh. He looked up at her, “Thank you.”

“You should take a stamina potion, it’ll help the weakness you feel and a healing potion to help your body replace the blood you lost.” She said quietly. He slowly sat up completely but it was just in time to catch the elf as she lost consciousness and pitched forward. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close working quickly to free her ankles from the leather straps that bound them. He slowly turned her over so she was laying on her back in his lap completely naked. Her skin was soft and smooth, she was so small he could see the outline of her ribs, collarbone and hips. She was far too skinny but he was much more concerned about the discoloration of her feet and hands, they were turning blueish-purple. He had seen that color on his soldiers extremities far too often since coming to Skyrim, frostbite could be extremely painful and problematic if it wasn’t caught in the beginning stages. His eyes fell onto the body of a rebel laying feet from him and he scooted across the snow and began stripping the dead body of it’s clothing. Warm, form fitting leather with fur stitched over it would keep her warm. He struggled to dress her but he did so with care and gentleness until every part of her was wrapped in fur. He grabbed his cloak from the ground and wrapped it around himself before searching through the dead bodies for some potions. He found a few magicka potions but much more healing and stamina ones. He drank two of each and then uncorked a healing potion for her and poured little by little in her mouth until it leaked down her throat. 

The world seemed to pitch and spin when he stood but soon it righted itself, a little light headed he scooped her off the ground and grabbed the closest horse. He no longer cared about the prisoners left bound and alive on Darius’ horse. They could freeze to death, in fact he hoped they did. He sat the elf on the horse before he grabbed Darius’ steed and shoved the grunting prisoners off and left them in the snow. He led the horse to the side of his and then with great effort hoisted Darius’ body on it. It wasn’t until he mounted his own horse that he let his exhaustion take over him. He just wanted to sleep, just for a few hours and then he’d be fine but he had been a soldier long enough to know that if he did so he’d never wake up and neither would Gadheriel. She had saved his life while he had been helpless to assist her, he would not abandon her here to die. He grabbed the leather lead of the horse at his side and his own horse and began leading them back to Solitude.

* * *

  
Darkness was all around her and a heaviness laid upon her, she could barely move but couldn’t see at all. It was confusing at first until she realized her eyes were closed, she felt like an idiot. She fought against the heaviness and slowly cracked her eyes open. Bright light assaulted her sensitive eyes and she blinked to clear them, within seconds they had adjusted to the sunlight pouring in from the windows set in smooth grey stone. She heard the hustle and bustle of a city outside, the cries of merchants selling wears, kids playing and adults gossiping. The room she was in wasn’t very wide but it was long and very warm. She lay upon a bed under piles of fur blankets, beside her bed a fire was crackling in a fireplace and hugging the wall opposite of her was another bed. She froze as everything came back to her at the sight of General Tullius buried under furs on the bed. The last thing she could remember was healing the General and then nothing. She studied the room more closely, the stone brick walls, the fancy—well for nords anyway, they were still so far behind the likes of Alinor, but still this was miles better than the hovels most other nords lived in—architecture gave the place away as Castle Dour. She had been here quite a few times with Elenwen, her heart fell at the thought of her boss. Once Elenwen found out she was here she’d come charging in demanding an explanation and a truthful one. 

The Thalmor had ways of detecting lies and falsehood, some pleasant and some not so pleasant, she knew the Imperials would cave, especially if the Concordat was mentioned. She couldn’t blame them though, how could she expect them to risk every citizens life to protect an enemy? She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that her and the General were buddies now, that their shared experiences melted the past away. No, he’d cave and when Elenwen found out all that had occurred she’d be done. She shuddered, they would probably either kill her outright as she wasn’t in their good graces to begin with or perhaps, even worse in many ways, send her to reclamations. She’d kill herself before she was forced to go to reclamations, any Thalmor agent would. In fact most kept a potion hidden inside their armor strapped to their arms in case of a situation where death would be preferable. She had only heard of two such instances when the potion was used, an agent who had been captured by the Empire and tortured for information used it to avoid pain and keep his secrets, and another who defected and got tired of running. She knew she’d have to brew it again, but it was a rather simple potion, all she needed was a vial of blood from a beastial race, a lowly elven race and a man, bone meal made from a convict who had committed heinous crimes, a black soul gem and a drop of Alinor water. The water would be annoying to get but she could easily substitute it, all water held memories of those past, she’d just need to find the right type of memories to use. 

That would be her first business but first she had to get out of here. She shoved the blankets off of her and stared down at her naked body. It had been healed expertly, she could still feel an ache in her leg but nothing close to the agony it had caused her before, more of an annoyance really. She felt heat rush into her face, they had seen her naked and so had the General, it was improper of her. She looked around for clothes not spotting any in the open she got up from the bed a bit light headed. Her body adjusted and she began searching through the nightstands, dressers and cupboards until finally spotting a simple white robe like the priests wore in shrines to Kynareth, her eyes fell upon a gleaming gold ring shoved in the back of the cupboard and she quickly pocketed it. It would have to do, as she threw it on the door swung open and she instantly let loose a fireball in the direction. It exploded causing the stone to chip and the floor to vibrate. She cursed as her heart slowed, reminding herself she was safe inside the Castle not out in the wilds surrounded by enemies. 

“Hold your fire!” A female voice commanded from the other side of the wall.

“Yes, yes, I’m done now. Stop cowering over a little magic.” She snapped, she was mortified at her reaction. She had been trained to not lose control, not once! It seemed to all have gone out the door the last week, from her pleading to not be harmed, to clinging like a child to the General and now this. A deep hot wave of shame swept through her burning into a pool of irritation. 

“Don’t you give me that tone,” a tall nord woman appeared in the doorway, Rikke if she remembered correctly, “We still don’t know your involvement as of yet, but we have a dead soldier, our General in disrepair and you. If you had anything to do with this I swear—”

“You swear what nord? What’re you going to do swing your sharp little metal stick at me?” She laughed cruelly. She knew she was being unfair but she was overwhelmed by everything that happened, that was going to happen, she could not bear to be in her own skin any longer let alone dealing with someone else. 

“Seems to have worked wonders for whoever cut you up elf.” The words cut through her, severed her ties to rationality, to any sort of control, they echoed inside of her pinging off every sensitive and fragile piece of her. She launched herself at the large nord, her hands wrapping around her neck but the woman barely had to take a step back. Rikke had to be three times as heavy as she was, but that didn’t matter, she sent lightning through the woman’s body. Anger and hatred twisting her face into an ugly, shattered countenance. The soldier struggled against it but soon she was no longer in control of her nerves and fell back against the wall shaking. 

“Gadheriel, stop this instant!” A hoarse voice commanded from across the room. She didn’t hear it at first, lost in a haze of emotions too powerful for her to control his voice seemed to be coming from far away. She recognized the General’s voice eventually and pulled her hands and magic away from the gasping and twitching Legate sliding down the wall. He had no authority over her but she could not ignore the fact that she owed him a debt for saving her life even if she would be better off dead, and probably would be dead very soon. 

She turned to look at him, his eyes were tired and his face haggard. More proof that elves were better suited for this life, mankind took so much longer to heal and their bodies were much more fragile. “Perhaps you should teach your people some manners General, you humans do understand what manners are don’t you?” She sneered at him. She knew she should be grateful that he saved her life, that he sacrificed and went through so much just to bring her back alive but she could not muster the energy it would take to adequately feel those emotions. She searched herself finding only despondency, shame and a deep, dark, writhing anger burning hot inside of her. 

“Enough. You are here merely on our generous hospitality and nothing more. It may not be to your high standards but it is what we have and the least you can do after one of my men died saving you is to be kind enough not to attack my people!” 

She gritted her teeth wanting to tell him where he could shove his hospitality but knew she needed a place to hide out for a few days so she could work out a game plan, maybe even line their stories up if the General was inclined to continue his kindness towards her. She sighed heavily and crossed her arms, “Very well. I won’t attack neanderthals even if they do deserve it.” She glared at Rikke who was attempting to stand, her legs wobbly. 

“You shouldn’t be up yet, the healers said you’d still need a day to recover.” Tullius said tiredly. 

“I feel fine and I have things to do. If the need arises I will take care of myself.” She looked at him coolly for a second before her gaze fell to the floor. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. He had seen her at her absolute lowest point in her entire existence. It was bad enough it happened but now someone was capable of holding it against her. She knew the situation was advantageous to him, but she also understood that if she didn’t cater to him that she would push him towards Elenwen. 

“You can’t be serious! You’re going back out there after what happened?” He gave a groan as he tried to sit up

“Careful wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself there General.” She retorted, “Unlike you I can not afford the luxury of laying in bed all damn day. Goodness knows how many days have passed since we got here.” 

“Three.” He replied as he laid back down slowly.

“Great, just great. And do they know where I am?” 

Tullius looked confused, “You killed them in the valley don’t you remember?”

“Not them,” She hissed, her mind rebelling as the memories swam forth and she violently tried to shove them back. She would not give those memories any attention at all, “Elenwen—the Thalmor.” 

A curious look came over the Imperial General as he studied her, “No we haven’t had the time to be running errands for the Thalmor. My men have been getting by without me as much as possible, and I’ve been doing paperwork when I can.”

“Good.” She didn’t miss the look of surprise on the General’s face, “How do you expect to defeat the Thalmor when you obviously know so little about them? Pathetic.” She snapped before slipping a pair of soft fur boots on and yanking the door open. It was only when the fresh air of Solitude hit her face that she realized she had spoken of the Thalmor in the third person as if she was not a part of them she cringed at her mistake. Stupid, foolish—no wonder Elenwen had sent her on such a ridiculous assignment to begin with. She carded her fingers through her hair and set out for the alchemist. She would need supplies. Perhaps the woman would know of the right water.

She walked down the streets of Solitude with trepidation, as if at any moment someone would jump out from a bush to harm her, paranoid of both an attack by an enemy or a colleague. None came, but even more surprising were the towns people, they no longer hissed at her or threw insults her way. She had been working very hard on the Thalmor’s image among the people of Skyrim, trying to get the citizens to view the Thalmor as an ally or at least a neutral, in fact anything but an enemy was a good start. At first none of them trusted her but desperation often caused people to cross boundaries they never would have before and soon people were begging her for help. Slowly, so very very slowly, the people had grown to at least be able to rely on her for their problems. And still there was a lack of trust, dressed in her thalmor robes she would hear whispers, insults at times (Although they were far and few between as time went on), and no one would dare smile at her or invite her into their homes. However it seemed without the uniform she was not nearly as imposing as she had once been, people actually smiled and greeted her as she walked by, they would not move a few feet away, nor would their eyes follow her all around as if at any moment she would turn around and curse them. Besides the polite greetings for the most part she was invisible and felt like she was just another citizen. It had its uses, perhaps she could have done better in her assignment had she gone undercover in simple dress, but when she had suggested that Elenwen looked at her like she was an idiot and merely said, “Would that not undercut the entire point of this mission? People need to know you’re a Thalmor so when you do nice things for them they can trust us and not just you.” She had said it as if talking to a five year old who didn’t quite understand adults. Typical Emissarial attitude, as if she knew anything sitting in that embassy all day reading and writing letters. A foul scowl adorned her face as she entered the apothecary.

The woman behind the counter was old with a soft spoken voice. “Have you any water?”

“Water my dear? Everyone has water.” 

She sighed, “I meant purified water ma’am.” She had to bite back her insults, usually she wasn’t so irritable, at least not so easily. She couldn’t explain the churning mass of anger inside of her but she knew she couldn’t let it take control of her either. Control, the very thing she had been lacking the last few days, she had to take it back. 

“No, I don’t my dear, I am sorry. I do believe the alchemist down in Whiterun may have some though. Have you ever been to Whiterun?”

“A few times, it’s a nice enough place so long as you don’t run into Nazeem.” She curled her lip. That man had annoyed her so much that she had followed him out of town at night and killed him right behind his own home. He wouldn’t be getting to the cloud district very often anymore. 

“My daughter, Fura, was stationed there. She’s in the Legion you see, I haven’t heard from her in so long. I tried asking Captain Aldis but he has refused to tell me anything. I am afraid…I fear that she is….will you please ask Aldis for information? I need to know.” The old woman looked so much older suddenly, and there was a sadness so deep in her eyes Gadheriel was forced to turn away.

“Of course ma’am. I will be back when I have information.” She said quietly. She left the shop quickly, hoping that if she walked fast enough the sorrow resonating from the old woman would not follow her. She couldn’t handle it right now, she had to stay focused and think of nothing else. She couldn’t turn the old woman away, no it wasn’t right. Angeline deserved to know what became of her daughter just as she had deserved to know about her parents. Oh divines, why did she have to think of them? What could they possibly think of her now? She shook her head trying to clear it, no she just needed to see Captain Aldis and nothing more. She counted the bricks making up the stone pavement as she walked, focusing on her task and nothing else until she made it to the training area outside of Castle Dour.

“Captain!” She called out to the middle-aged man with dark brown hair and a matching beard dressed in Solitude red. He turned towards her and frowned as recognition darkened his gaze. She groaned inwardly, she forgot that although the townsfolk probably wouldn’t recognize her as quickly without her uniform guards and soldiers were by nature and training much more observant. 

“What can I do for the Thalmor _now_? I have a batch of new soldiers to train yet, so make it quick.”

Raising her chin she replied, “It is not for us Captain. I was visiting Angeline—” she began before he interrupted with a groan, “What?”

His eyes fell and a distasteful look swept across his face, “I know why you’re here. She wants to know of her daughter right?”

“Don’t you think any parent has a right to know if their child is alive or not?” She looked at him coolly. She could hear her Mother’s laugh in her mind and her father’s voice full of wonder as he taught her about the stars. What she wouldn’t give to see her parents, the familiar ache in her chest thrummed through her but she swallowed against it. She would never be able to fall into her Mother’s arms weeping and tell her everything that had happened. Her father would never stand up in a protective rage and seek justice for her again. She was alone. Utterly and completely alone. A cold emptiness swept through her and she felt hollowed out, defeated. All this time she filled the void with Thalmor business as if by doing great things she’d finally be able to see her parents again but they were gone. They felt nothing, thought nothing, saw nothing. Everything she did was lost on them and she’d never see them again. 

“Elf? Are you listening?” a voice said through the haze of her remembrance. She grasped onto the only path out of her personal hell. Aldis had stepped closer an unsure look on his face.

“My apologies Captain, repeat what you said.” She said in a quiet but firm voice.

“It shames me that I have yet to tell her of her daughter’s death but I can not bare to break the news to her. Please if you will tell her for me I would be grateful. You must be pretty used to notifying people of their dead by now.” 

She frowned and looked away, “No actually I am not, but I will endeavor to at least do this correctly,” her eyes slid back to Aldis’, “This isn’t about my convenience after all.” She gave him a slow smile and began her trek back to the apothecary. What was wrong with her? Why did she have to think of her parents? Why was everything hitting so close to her? She could not bare this much longer, she would go insane. She just wanted to curl up under a heavy rock and lay there until she died. Why couldn’t she have just been born a mudcrab?

Too soon she arrived at the door of the apothecary and wondered how to tell a woman her beloved daughter was never coming back. Why did mankind have to be so ridiculously fragile? Why must they choose war when their lives were already so short? It was utterly ridiculous. Plenty of people had expressed disdain for the Thalmor for the lives they took in the Great war, and even now she heard cries about lives wasted because of them; yet mankind had never needed help seeing human life as expendable before. The Thalmor were no saints, there were twisted people in every organization and perhaps their methods were not peaceful ones but their goal was the same as any other idealist. If they could unite Tamriel under one rule they could eventually, given time, bring it to peace. There would be no more wars. She had wished it had been possible to peacefully accomplish this but no nation is going to consent to being ruled by another even on its best day and had it been possible all the idealists in Tamriel over the past millenias would have been successful. Unfortunately in order to communicate with the other races they had to use language that they understood and there was nothing mankind understood more than war. Perhaps if humans had spent their energy in intellectual pursuits, rather than killing each other, their people would be living healthier, safer and happier lives but perhaps they weren’t completely to blame. They weren’t elves after all, perhaps they didn’t hold the same capacity for intelligence or the deep ties to history. No their behavior and choices were those of animals that had just evolved three generations before.

She opened the door with a deep breath and slid inside the dim store with its myriad of scents both pleasant and foul. Angeline was no where to be seen, she checked the storage area behind the counter and peeked into the woman’s home that was connected to her shop but saw nothing. She sighed, she wanted to deliver the news and get out but she knew that was no way to break the news to her and she did want to show up Aldis after all. She grabbed a sprig of Lavender, purple and blue mountain flower, she gently tore off the petals and placed them in the mortar and pestle she found tucked away in the storage area. She ground them up and loosely placed them in wisp wrappings. She grabbed a pot off the shelf and filled it with water, she easily heated it with a controlled fire spell before carefully placing the wrapped herbs in the steaming hot water. After a few minutes she grabbed a ladle and poured the tea scoop by scoop into a teapot. As she was cleaning up the front door opened and Angeline walked in, she froze. She sighed, it was now or never.

“You’re back, have you any news dear?” 

She looked at the woman, her face was lined with worry but her eyes were filled with resignation. She felt a wave of empathy rush through her in that moment but pushed it back. She found it much easier, and logical, to let her irritation take over but as much as she wanted to snarl, _“Well this is what you people get when you act like savage beasts.”_ She kept silent. She took a deep cleansing breath and placed the tea pot on a table in the corner and sat down waiting for Angeline to sit across from her. She poured the tea and took a sip to soothe her frayed nerves. 

“This is very good dear, lavender and some mountain flowers? You certainly know your plants, but please, tell me, I can’t stand one second more.” The old woman reached out to cover Gadheriel’s hand resting on the table with her own but the elf quickly jerked her hand away. 

She looked out the window to the left and said, “I talked to Captain Aldis, he said he was sorry that he couldn’t give you the proper information when you asked. He had to send inquiries down to Whiterun and with the war it has been difficult for the couriers to get through,” she lied with ease. After all if she painted Aldis as the over-worked soldier who took the time to find out about her daughter perhaps she could focus the old woman towards Aldis and let him deal with the teary old woman. Her eyes slid back to Angeline, she was hanging on to her every word and she noticed a glint of hope had bloomed deep in her eyes, “The courier arrived last night but he didn’t want to disturb you, he was going to come see you after training today, but since I was there he asked me to do it. There was an incident in Whiterun where a group of soldiers were sent out to defend a post but none of them made it back alive. I am so sorry.” She watched the light in Angeline’s eyes slowly dim until they dull and lifeless. 

“I see. I told her not to go, I told her this was a war between Jarls and not to get involved but she was always so headstrong. Said we owed the empire for all the good they did us. Now their war has killed my daughter, what do I have left?” Her voice was thick with grief and her eyes filled with unshed tears, Gadheriel remained quiet knowing there was not a proper answer, “I can’t thank you, not for this, but you did a good thing for an old woman.” 

Angeline stood and she quickly stood eager to escape but not before she clinched her victory over Aldis. “Ma’am I can’t imagine how you feel right now but perhaps you haven’t lost everything.” 

“How can you possibly say that when my daughter is gone?” the tears finally fell down her face.

“When I approached Captain Aldis he seemed pretty upset and very distracted. After he told me what became of Fura he confessed to me that he had been in love with your daughter for quite some time. He asked me not to say anything, he didn’t want to add to your grief but I think it’s important you know that you aren’t alone.” She searched her pockets for the gold ring she had found in Castle Dour and pulled it out. “He gave this to me, it was on Fura’s hand when she was found. He told me to let you know that it was just a ring she found when she had been injured a few weeks ago, but it was really their engagement ring.” She handed the ring over to Angeline and squeezed her hand a little, “You’re not alone.”

She watched with bated breath as the woman took this all in, “But I never—Fura never said anything. She never spoke of any boys courting her, how could this be? Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“Captain Aldis said he wanted it to be a surprise for when the war was over.” She replied in her softest tone. 

Angeline pressed her hand to her heart and gave a quiet sob, “Oh that poor man, he must be hurting terribly. I remember when my husband passed, it took everything in me to go on for my daughters sake. And he still has his duties as a guard…I can’t imagine what he’s going through. Perhaps in a few days I will go see him, I just need to be alone right now, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, “Of course ma’am. I am sorry for your loss.” A victorious smile slid onto her face as she stepped back into the open air of the market place. It was finally done and over with, and now Aldis would have to deal with the fall out whether he liked it or not. She, however, still needed the purified water and so needed to find a way to Whiterun. She’d have to hire the carriage but with what gold? She had lost everything when—she shook her head, no. She wouldn’t go there. She folded her arms across her chest suddenly feeling very small in a large world with so many people milling about. She shook her head and stalked towards Castle Dour, she had taken the ring thinking she could pawn it for a bit of gold but the victory over Aldis had been more important. Perhaps she could convince Tullius or one of his people to loan her some gold.

She kept her head down staring intensely at the bricks beneath her feet as she made her way back to the Castle. She tried her best to keep her mind focused on her task but the feeling of walls closing in around her clung to her. She shook her head trying to clear it but she couldn’t help but think this land was cursed. The blood spilled and tears cried over the years had saturated the ground beneath their feet and the land could take no more, regurgitating its vengeance upon any who set foot upon the frozen tundra. The beauty of Skyrim was misleading, a broken promise luring the ignorant into its trap and it had ensnared her. She wanted desperately to break free but the more she seemed to struggle the more it tangled around her dragging her down to swallow her whole. There was no escape for her though, there was no going back to Alinor not now that she was a Thalmor. Defection and resignation were not a choice, it was life. The only escape possible would be to finally conquer the cruel land and the savages that inhabited it. She’d have to go back to the Thalmor eventually but not before she had a safety net. She’d have to make herself worth the effort, time and possible consequences of her remaining as an agent of the Thalmor and not a prisoner. She had to have something to offer, something big. And on the side a way out if all else failed. It was an insurmountable task. Impossible. She was in no position to bargain, demand, or even simply do anything at the moment, not when her fate lay in the hands of the Imperials. All it would take is a courier to the Embassy to alert them of her precarious situation and all of it would be over. 

She knew she shouldn’t push the Generals buttons but her lack of self-control lately was staggering in its proportion. She felt trapped in a hole with mountains on all sides with no way of climbing them and surrounding her enemies fighting a tug of war over who would have her. She gritted her teeth in anger at her position, she cursed Elenwen but mostly she cursed herself. She shouldn’t have been captured, her guard was down, she had been taken by surprise by man, mankind of all things! A hot wave of shame burned inside of her and she glowered at any who passed her. What was she going to do? She still believed in the Thalmor even if she hated Elenwen, she wished she could go home or at least see the few semi-friendly faces she had fought in the Great War beside, but they had all been given better stations post-war and she had been sent to this wretched place. She was alone. She fought against the encroaching desperation and loneliness that threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed against it and beat it down inside of her. It was bad enough that she had failed so miserably the last week but to give into her feelings like this was unacceptable, it would hardly win her any merit or consideration among her allies both new and old. 

“Excuse me, miss, everything alright?” A voice interrupted her from behind. She jumped startled and spun around glaring at the man as her heart pounded dangerously in her chest. A tall imperial man in his uniform stood before her, he had sandy brown hair and dark eyes.

“Everything is fine, what do you want?” She snapped defensively.

“I just want to get into the Castle miss, you’re in the way you see.”

She looked behind her, sure enough she had been so lost in thought she never realized she had been standing almost directly in front of the door, hesitating to go in. She stepped aside without another word, just another thing to be embarrassed about, fantastic. She groaned and ran her hand over her face before breathing in deeply and following the soldier into the keep. She only made it a few steps in when a tall woman in brown monk robes came towards her, “There you are! You shouldn’t be out of bed!”

She looked at the woman, “I am fine. What is it to you anyway?” She answered stiffly.

“I am Healer Rinowan, I am the one who treated your wounds. You were in terrible shape when you came in and I told Legate Rikke you were not to get up—”

“Silence, your voice is annoying.” She said bluntly past the point of caring. Her emotions were both bubbling over and burning out, it was an odd and uncomfortable mixture. 

“Why, I never—Look you feel fine because of the potions. Don’t give me that look, you know very well that it is true. I know a mage when I treat one. Your injuries may be healed on the outside and you may feel fine on the inside but your body is still not healed completely—especially from the internal bleeding! If you weren’t so injured I wouldn’t have had to overload you with potions and you’d definitely be feeling—”

“Do you always shriek and repeat yourself this incessantly or are you a member of the bards college?” Gadheriel asked shortly before moving around the healer towards the room she had awoken in earlier. The shuffling behind her told her that the healer was following her, she sighed in annoyance as she walked into the room finding the General propped up in bed with a wet rag on his forehead, tea on the nightstand and a dozen scrolls before him. He looked up as she entered and sighed, “You’re back I see and have met Healer Rinowan.”

“Unfortunately.”

“It is not my duty to be liked, it is my duty to ensure my patients health and well-bei—”

Gadheriel could feel the pulse in her head as her irritation flew to a new level, it took all her efforts to not scream at the woman or even better wrap her hands around her neck and shake her until she was finally silenced permanently. “Then shut up. You’re giving me a headache.” She turned back to the General who looked on in amusement at her plight, “I need some gold.”

He pursed his lips, “For what?”

“I need to go to Whiterun. It is necessary.”

“Whiterun—What is necessary is for you to get back into bed!” The healer cried out in exasperation, “You two have been the most difficult people I have ever had the displeasure of treating in a very long time and I have been a healer for over thirty-five ye—”

Gadheriel swiveled around her eyes dangerous and wild as she grabbed the womans robes and shook her violently, “So help me god if you don’t shut the fuck up you’re going to need a healer.”

“Gadheriel!” Tullius warned sharply, his voice cutting through the haze of anger and making her lip curl. She shoved the healer away from her and stormed over to her bed breathing hard. She threw herself down on it with force.

“Are you happy now?” She snarled at the healer who stood there eyes round and mouth ajar slightly trembling. It only took a heart beat for the healer to turn and run out of the Castle with the haste of whatever divine she worshiped. 

She heard the General sigh heavily, “Rikke, we’ll need to send for another healer—and please send an apology with some extra compensation for the one that just left.” He called out. 

“Aye!” Rikke shouted from an adjacent room. 

She threw herself on her side so her back was to the General and pulled the blankets over herself roughly. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself and for some reason tears rose unbidden. She felt like her entire life was shattered and that she was breaking apart on the inside. She felt helpless to stop it, not sure how to keep herself tied together when everything else was falling apart around her. Her breathing was hard and fast, she shuddered and closed her eyes tightly. She pulled her knees to her chest as if by making herself as small as possible she’d become invisible or even better yet non-existent. She tried to keep the tears from falling but the thin tether holding her in control had snapped and she gave a great shuddering gasp as the tears fell rapidly. Her throat tightened painfully, her chest and face burned and her body was shaking. 

“Gadheriel?” Tullius called out softly, his voice unsure and full of trepidation.

Another breathless sob was ripped from her as another layer of shame fell upon her. Of course she had to break down in front of this man, of course. She was pathetic, worthless, useless. Elenwen was right, it would have been better for everyone, including herself, if she hadn’t been born. She was acting like a hysterical human woman, so far from the highly-bred mer she was. Maybe that mer was dead, maybe only this remained of her now, she certainly couldn’t see a path back to what, or who, she had been before. Before her incompetence and negligence had led to her capture, before those men had contaminated her. She gasped as her body gave another violent shudder and her breath caught. She couldn’t breathe, she gasped in air but still it felt like she was suffocating. She couldn’t get her control back, it was gone, gone like everything and everyone else she ever knew or loved. 

Suddenly a hand fell on her and she jumped, leaping away from the hand. She swiveled around inhumanly fast, her back now pressed against the wall and her arms hugging it, “NO! DON’T TOUCH ME!” She screamed in a blind panic. She breathed hard and fast as she felt hands grabbing her, sliding across her body and squeezing. She clenched her eyes shut against the assaulting memories. “No….please, no…” She whimpered as she pulled her knees to her chest, “I’d rather die, please…” She gasped for air.

She felt the cold on her back and knew she was back in the snow. There was a heavy weight on top of her, moving inside of her, she could hear the laughter of men around her and feel the pain coming from down there. His sweat dripped on her and she wanted to throw up but all she could do was clench her eyes shut tighter and wait for it to be over. The ice and snow scratched her back with the force of the man on top of her, she could focus on that it was better than what reality had to offer. It reminded her of the time she had fallen down a hill and landed in a creek on her family’s large sprawling estate. She had cried and screamed for help, her leg hurt her terribly. Sweet Annabella came, a little breton woman who served their family. She took Gadheriel in her arms and rocked her back and forth whispering words of comfort. The fall had peeled some of the skin on her leg off and the sharp rocks in the creek had broken it but above the pain she could feel Annabella’s strong but tender embrace. 

She felt it now too, strong arms around her, her head pressed into a warm chest but Annabella had smelled of lavender and lilies, not of old parchment and brandy. The scent was so strong, she opened her eyes slowly in fear and saw not a naked man on top of her but something soft and white, the laughter had faded as well and was replaced with the sound of a man calling her name. “Daddy?!” She called out hopefully, desperately, but the voice never responded but of course he wouldn’t respond her father was long dead, “I’m sorry…it was my fault, I’m sorry…..” Her heart ripped in two again at the thought of what she had done, “Don’t leave me.” For a moment she thought she was alone, but she still felt strong arms around her, then the voice began calling her name again but it was louder now, much closer. It sounded familiar but where had she heard it before? Who did it belong to? Whoever it was had saved her from those men, had taken her away from them. She focused on that voice until everything else faded around her, she clenched her eyes shut for just a minute as she latched onto his voice but when she opened them again she realized she wasn’t in the snow.

No, she was in a brick castle, she knew this room, Castle dour. She was in Castle Dour, she had been taken days ago and saved by General Tullius. She slowly came back to herself, her breathing still fast and unsteady, tears still streamed down her face but she knew where she was and what had happened. Someone was holding her, arms held her tightly and her face was pressed against a broad hard chest, she tilted her head up just a little, enough to see that it was Tullius himself who was holding her. It was him, the man who saved her from the Stormcloaks, she was safe now. A harsh voice in her head whispered, “Pathetic, you shouldn’t be crying like a little baby, absolutely disgusting. You are a disgrace to the Thalmor, the face of shame to all your people.” A desperate sob erupted from her shaking body, “I’m sorry….” She moaned out loud. 

“It’s all right Gadheriel, it’s all right.” The deep, tired voice of the General said quietly. 

That was all it took for the voice in her head to dissipate and her arms came up and wrapped around the Imperial holding her. Howling sobs wracked her already trembling body, and she clung to Tullius with an unforgiving grip, pressing her face into his chest. She cried and cried not noticing Rikke backing out of the room with a profoundly shocked look on her face, or the new healer in the corner of the room with pity in his eyes. She didn’t notice the afternoon turn to evening either, she just clung desperately to the safety and comfort of the man holding her and cried.

* * *

  
General Tullius sighed as he peered down at the trembling elf in his arms, Gadheriel was quiet now but still tears slid down her face wetting his shirt. Her unrelenting sobs of agony had died down to a quiet despondency in his arms. He caught her eyes and he saw the exhaustion and brokenness lying within them. He soothingly ran a hand over her hair and she closed her eyes and sighed against him. It was a moment of great sadness but one of the most tender moments he had had with anyone since arriving in Skyrim. Shuffling feet behind him reminded him of the presence of the healer, “General sir, she needs her treatment soon.” The man said quietly, his voice soft and his eyes looking intently at Gadheriel. He moved to lay her down in the bed but the elf’s eyes opened quickly and her hand shot up to grab his arm. At some point they had repositioned so they were no longer kneeling before each other uncomfortable. She sat on her bed, her side and face pressed against his chest as he cradled her until she calmed. 

“Please don’t go.” She said, a tremor in her small voice. 

He nodded, “Very well.” He looked back at the healer, “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Nothing so complicated, we’ve done all the magic we could on her, she just needs to drink some potions.” The healer said as he held out three vials full of red liquid.

“What’re they?” He asked as he took them each.

“The first one you should give her is a calming draught, it’ll relax her enough to get her to sleep.” The healer said pointing it out. He uncorked it and tossed the cork in the fire behind him. He handed her the potion, her thin fingers wrapped around the glass. Her hands were trembling still so he placed his over hers to steady the bottle. She drank it quickly, no doubt desperate for the escape of sleep.

“The next one is the healing potion, that will try to mend any wounds she may have incurred over the day. And the final one is a regeneration potion which will help with the internal bleeding and also restore some of her strength. I mixed it with a stamina potion, put in a few sprigs of mint to balance it out.” The healer mentioned. He nodded absent-mindedly as he helped her with the potions. 

“Thank you, Edinoch. I hope healer Rinowan is alright after the commotion.” He offered to the priest behind him.

“Do not worry about Rinowan, she is known around the temple for her….bedside manner or lack there of. Had we known the full extent of the situation we most definitely would have sent someone else.” The healer paused a second before continuing, “And please think nothing of it, it is our greatest joy and our most honored duty to help those in need of it, and she is in desperate need. It is a good thing she is here with you.”

He said nothing at first too busy watching Gadheriel fall asleep to respond. He wanted to make sure she was alright and sleeping soundly before he laid her down and returned to his own bed. It wasn’t very long before her eyes shut and she was breathing slowly and deeply. He carefully lowered her onto the bed and pulled the blankets over her. He took the nearest cloth and dipped it in some fresh warm water and cleaned her face before tiredly shuffling to his own bed, groaning at the aches in his body. “I do not know if I agree with you to be honest.”

“For you or her?” The healer asked softly.

“For both.” He sighed.

“You would have left her?” a tone of surprise in the priests voice.

“Never.” He said vehemently. Unsure of where that came from he sighed and looked away from the sleeping elf to the healer. “Our positions are just…complicated.”

“Ah yes, things with the Thalmor often are.” 

“You know she is a Thalmor?” He questioned apprehensively, he had told Rikke to not mention that when she went to fetch a healer from the temple, “I told Rikke—” 

He stopped when the healer raised his hand, “Be calm General your Legate did not break your trust. I have known Gadheriel for the last year. She came in one night still in her Thalmor robes with flowers and offerings. She prayed at some of the shrines, I admit I was surprised to see a Thalmor there, my curiosity got the best of me so I waited in the back pew for her to be done. She had come to pray for her Mother and Father, we talked for a while. It was the anniversaries of their deaths. It was strange though, she did not pray to Arkay as most people do who are remembering their loved ones. She prayed to Stendarr, the God of mercy and forgiveness.” 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, she had thought he was her father, had apologized and said it was her own fault. “What happened to her parents?”

“It is certainly not my story to tell, but she kept coming to see me every Loredas night. I usually am wary of the Thalmor, as are we all, but I have had a glimpse of the person beneath and the horrors inflicted upon this child in the past. I will not turn her away.” 

He thought about the night he had seen her with Svari, had seen her act with such empathy and compassion to a nord child, he too had seen a glimmer of humanity and decency in her. He wondered idly about her life, about the possibility of there being more Thalmor like her. Perhaps if he could turn her she could in turn be a double agent and gather more like her. He sighed, lofty plans with so many different ways of going terribly wrong. He looked at the healer who peered at him as if he knew exactly what the General was thinking.

“It is not my place to tell you what to do General but I caution you to be careful with her. My mother gave me a vase when I was a boy, she told me it was from Elsweyr, and it was my favorite possession. You see I was fond of archeology at the time, and the Khajiit always fascinated me as a lad. I was really careful with the vase but then one day I got in an argument with my mother and slammed my bedroom door. The force was enough to topple the vase and it shattered. I decided to try to put it back together, I tried everything I knew but the pieces wouldn’t fit the way they should so I decided I would have to make it into something else so I could at least keep the shards. I made it into a cat, lean and proud, but every few days it would collapse into itself because I didn’t have all the pieces. Some were lost, some were too small for me to notice or even know about. Nor did I understand how they all fit together, but I tried to fix it every time. I’d just put it together again and again. Each time I lost a bit more until so much was gone it was nothing but sharp edges and pointed protrusions. I went to fix it one last time and it cut me very deeply. The wound hurt and bled terribly but it was the infection afterward that nearly killed me. Do you understand?”

General Tullius looked at him thoughtfully, “Yes. I shall endeavor to be cautious with her. I know she is…she has redeeming factors about her when she so chooses to let them show. I am not unaware.” There was a momentary silence before the priest handed him his own potions and left with a respectful nod. He sighed and downed them all within seconds of each other and laid in bed exhausted. He would worry about things tomorrow he was far too tired to do it now. He turned over in bed so he was facing Gadheriel’s bed and studied the peacefully sleeping Thalmor across from him. All day long he had to suffer through Rikke’s non-stop nagging at him to get rid of the insulting and irritable elf, but he had refused for a few reasons. He needed her, she currently was his only weapon against the Thalmor, and perhaps against the Stormcloaks if he could convince her but also he knew that this wasn’t her normal attitude. There was no doubt she was arrogant and condescending, patronizing and rude at times, as are all Thalmor but even then she was more kind and patient than the others, she was much more likely to respond in a patronizing tone, as if trying to teach a really stupid child something, than to be outright cruel. It could wear on a person but he knew it didn’t come from hatred. He had seen her attitude in the Legion often enough, especially during and after the Great war, many men and woman had been traumatized in the conflict and would respond in various ways, one being the same Gadheriel had exhibited. He knew with a bit of patience it would come to a head soon. Thalmor were easily triggered into rage despite their claims of self-control, he knew all she needed was a little push and she would break down so she could start the grieving process. After the grieving process came the healing process and with all the fire he had seen in her today he was sure she’d get there so long as she acknowledged what happened to her. 

He knew all about responses to trauma but what he didn’t grasp was his own response to her. Yes, he had always planned to be the one to be there for her, he needed her to trust him if his plan was to work at all but he had never expected to feel a genuine protectiveness over her. He could not explain it, it made no sense. She was the enemy for god’s sake, she had gone through hell but her people—and undoubtedly she herself—had put the Empire and its people through hell as well. Why should he care if something terrible happened to her? Was it because of the glimmer of humanity he saw in her? Or perhaps it was just his compulsion that drew him to beautiful woman like moths to a flame. She was very beautiful, he could not deny that. She had these warm honey colored eyes and slim nose that curved upwards at the tip like a spoon and her lips were thin and curved up in a perpetual smirk. Her hair was that same blond-silver like most of her kin but hers shimmered in the light, it was dazzling. She was no doubt beautiful. And yet it wasn’t her beauty he couldn’t get out of his head, it was her cries and whimpers, her pleading that had tightened his chest. He could not deny the protectiveness that had swept through him when she had whimpered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry please stop…” To hear her apologize to the men who had sexually assaulted her was too much for him. He had crushed her to him and began calling her name more fervently, determined to bring her back from that place. Thankfully he had been successful but he would not get her cries out of his head for a very long time. He cursed the war, he couldn’t curse his choice of profession he knew he was one of the best and he could use that to do some good but there were times that even a veteran of war could no longer bare the sadistic and cruel things that came with it. There were no rules in an all out war, and that is often where men and woman alike showed what they were capable of, some did heroic things but most of the time it just showed how depraved and cruel their kind could be. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, he had to stop thinking like this or he’d end up agreeing with the Thalmor. He snorted and closed his eyes, searching for a restful sleep in the aftermath of a trying day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you like it so far. Chapter 3 is being worked on.


	3. Inferno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very long chapter, I am sorry, but there was much that needed to be done in this chapter.

There was nothing more rejuvenating on a cold quiet morning than a hot bath, she let herself slid down in the tub until the hot water covered her entire body. She groaned in relief as her muscles relaxed and the aches in her body faded. She awoken well-rested but anxiety born from humiliation bloomed in her chest not soon after her eyes took in the new day. She couldn’t believe she had lost it like that, biting her lip she began vigorously scrubbing her body down. It was definitely not becoming of a respectable Altmer. Her parents had spent a fortune on the best tutors who taught her how to be graceful, strong but not dominant, they taught her manners for all sorts of occasions, how to walk properly according to whom you were with and the occasion. Not to mention fashion advice, linguistic lessons, architecture, History, music, and of course, magic. She must have disappointed them greatly with her behavior the other night but what worried her the most was that it was beyond her control. She could remember not being able to breathe and the anxiety that had tightened her chest but then it went blank. It burned her to know that she had lost all semblance of control, what if it kept happening, how could she possibly rebuild her life if at any second she could have a fit like that? She shuddered at the thought of what would have happened had she been on duty. She wanted so badly to make things right and go back to her old life. The potion was her only way out if she couldn’t, but she missed being a Thalmor, not that she had many friends in the organization in Skyrim. She had devoted her life to the cause and she had no idea what she would do if she couldn’t be part of it. 

She sighed as she splashed her face gently cleaning it with a new cloth hanging from the side of the large basin. She felt conflicted, when she was okay and not thinking of what happened she wanted to move on with her life even if she felt stuck and incapable of it but the other part of her just wanted to curl up in a ball and stay that way until she died, she could feel the throbbing agony that part of her was in but she mostly averted her face from it before it threatened to overwhelm her like it had last night. Gods, what must these people think of her now? Her face burned, she could have possibly messed up things between the Thalmor and the Imperials stationed here, she had to be more careful even if it had felt good to be held for once. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her like that, or even the last gentle touch she had. Reclamations was the last time anyone had touched her, and that was so long ago before she became a full member of the Thalmor. It was part of the process but afterward it was a solitary existence even when among colleagues. Only husbands and wives were meant to be so touchy-feely, it was a way to make sure everyone remained pure so the familial trees and genealogy was easier to keep track of. There were a few times when touching was allowed so long as it was very public, like at a party dancing appropriately with a partner of the same social status or at an inn having dinner so long as you sat in the center of the room where all could see you and kept your hands on top of the table. Being held by the General after an emotional break down violated so many of their customs it was unbelievable, and yet it had felt good. She couldn’t deny feeling safe in his arms nor the way he seemed to anchor her to the present reality. She had felt comforted and after the fit was over she had felt freed of it a little. She was puzzled by it honestly the man had no reason to be nice, in fact he had every right to be just the opposite.

She wondered apprehensively what he wanted with her. She had nothing to offer, she was not some high-up person in the Thalmor ranks, not anymore at least and she certainly had no sides in this insignificant civil war Skyrim was playing at. She shouldn’t be giving into her feelings it was dangerous especially for someone in her position. She couldn’t trust anyone even someone who had saved her life. There had to be ulterior motives, no one liked the Thalmor that much. She slowly got out of the tub frowning, her body protesting the chilly air even as she dried off and grabbed one of her new dresses. The General had ordered a few dresses and robes be made for her by Radiant Garments and they had thankfully arrived this morning. They may be simple clothes, certainly not anything she would wish to keep or be seen in but for now they’d have to do. She couldn’t believe the Altmer running the store would dare sell these clothes and call them fashionable, but then again it was easier to make a profit using cheap materials and designs then sell them to unsuspecting nords who would never dare venture to Alinor—not that Alinor would allow them to even get close to their waters let alone their land. She couldn’t see how anything with a dead animal around the collar or hanging off of it could even be sanitary let alone fashionable, she sighed as she realized how far the nords had to go but she thought with enough time they could get there. There was some hope in the nords. She had seen some fantastical feats of bravery, and there were glimmers of some scholars, and the bards’ colleges’ hearts were in the right place. It was almost fascinating to watch an entire people slowly discovering civilization and implementing it in the best way they knew how and slowly evolving it into something finer. It would be more fascinating had she been able to just be an observer and not one of those in charge of nudging them in the right direction especially when the people were so against it. Children were the same way, they never wanted to try new foods, her parents always had to force her to eat something she didn’t already like but often enough when her toddler-sized war of temper tantrums were over and she ate it she grew to love it. Honestly though she hated the tutor her parents brought in for her palate and to refine her tastes, that woman had been so strict she made the Thalmor look like a bunch of teddy bears.

She combed through her messy tangled hair, violently pulling out knots and matted sections with a comb, hissing and yelping every few minutes until it was perfectly straight. She pulled it back into a ponytail but let her bangs hang freely to frame her face. She was at the door trying to gather the courage and poise she would need to face the General when she heard people moving around. She could hear a woman crying softly and a man murmuring something gently, then Rikke spoke up, “We will always remember your son, he died saving the life of an innocent and General Tullius. The Legion will honor him as they would any war hero and of course we will take care of any and all expenses you have for the rest of your life as were his last wishes.”

Gadheriel frowned trying to recall who died, but then she remembered there had been another soldier with the General, what was his name? 

“Can we see this person Darius saved? Talk to them? It’d be nice to-to—” the woman began before breaking down in tears once more. Gadheriel froze and breathed in deeply. She knew what she had to do, she had a duty to honor any living thing that laid down their lives for her or any other Altmer. She straightened her back, raised her chin and opened the door stepping into the main room of the castle. Rikke was in the center of the room closer to the foyer entrance was a man and a woman both Imperials and both with dark brown hair. The woman was nearly skeletal with green eyes and curly hair but the man was burly and tall with copper eyes. 

“You are Darius’ parents?” She asked softly, Rikke sent her a stern glare as if daring her to say something cruel.

“Yes, I’m Leodus and this is my wife Arientia. Did you know our son?” the man said in a gruff voice.

Gadheriel nodded, “Yes, I was in the next room, I overheard your wife mentioning she’d like to meet the person your son died protecting.”

“Do you know them?” He asked softly

She could feel all eyes in the room on her now, a heaviness she didn’t expect to feel settled on her shoulders, “Yes, you’re son died saving me.” 

There hung a strange silence in the room, she shifted uncomfortably before stopping herself and standing firm, it stretched on and on until finally the Mother burst out with a strangled sob, “My son died to save you? An elf!? A-a-a Thalmor?!” She shrieked angrily.

The man gripped his wife to his side and rubbed her arm, “Darling not every high elf is a Thalmor, you know this.” But Gadheriel didn’t miss the puzzled look he sent her. 

“Oh she’s a Thalmor if ever there was one, you can tell by the way she carries herself, so proud and mighty like any below her are utterly worthless—”

“Every elf carries themselves that way—” Leodus began

“If I may?” Gadheriel spoke up, she could feel a nervous tingle at the base of her spine but she hardened her resolve. Leodus nodded towards her quietly. “Your wife is correct sir, I am a Thalmor.” She watched the fall out with no expression, she had locked her feelings away to do her duty she would not turn away from it. Leodus looked pained, Rikke tensed and Arientia gasped in agony.

“Why?! Why would he even try to save you when all your kind has ever done is bring misery and death every where you go? Did you not get enough of our blood in the Great War?!” She cried out viciously trying to step forward but Leodus held her tightly to his side.

“We said we wanted to speak to her, we must let her speak.” Leodus said tensely, looking at Gadheriel with a finality in his eyes.

“Well what does she have to say? Oh sorry got your son killed to save my precious superior elven blood? So superior when she needed my son—a man—to save her!” Arientia sobbed, holding her sons uniform to her chest. 

She took a breath and began before she could be interrupted, “I was traveling by myself when I was ambushed by a group of Stormcloaks. I killed a handful but I was vastly outnumbered and I hadn’t been paying attention. I never saw the archers in the trees, they had poisoned arrows and I was captured. The remaining rebels tied me up with magic resistant restraints and took me to their camps.” The tingle was traveling up her spine but she clenched her hands in fists and shoved back the memories. She’d just tell them like any other soldier giving a simple report. “They tortured me for days, moving around and dragging me along to have fun with. I was cold and weak when General Tullius and his men raided the camp and killed the Stormcloaks, your son was with them. General Tullius decided to take me directly to Solitude because I was in desperate need of healing. He asked Darius to come with because he had the best eyes. General Tullius said he was going to promote Darius once they got back.” She bit her lip and steadied herself.

“We were almost to Dawnstar when we were ambushed. I tried to help as much as I could with my magic but I was too weak. A Stormcloak was running towards my position, Darius saw and over took him. He killed that Stormcloak but before he could turn around an arrow went through his neck and he fell to his knees and another Stormcloak finished him off. I am so sorry.” She finished softly. She wished she could look away from Leodus his eyes were so calm but she could see the deep pools of sorrow within them.

“He should have left you to die, that’s what you deserve, why didn’t he just leave you to die!” His mother sobbed softly. “Auri-el knows had the situation been reversed you would have killed him yourself and called it a mercy.”

“You’re right ma’am, had he been prisoner and I had found him, I would have killed him. I will not deny that. It is much easier to risk your life for a friend or fellow soldier than for an enemy. By all rights your son should have killed me or left me to die, it would have been the more logical and strategic thing to do for so many reasons but your son was better than this war. He knew I was an enemy but he still saw how outnumbered I was, how cruel the Stormcloaks were and he acted in my best interests and defense regardless of how it affected him or the Imperials. He acted not as an Imperial soldier in a war but as a brave man with great honor and integrity. He died with his dignity intact as an example of what all of us should be. If I could bring him back I would, this world needed him more so than another Thalmor perhaps, but all I can do now is hope to somehow bring honor to your son in my own way.” She finished, she breathed in and out glad for her part to be done. 

Arientia looked up at her and sneered, “I wish you were dead.” And with that broke down into loud sobs and quickly walked out of the keep, but Leodus gave her a nod and she bowed her head to him as he went after his wife leaving her and Rikke alone. She sighed and relaxed her shoulders, the rooms intensity slowly winding down. 

“You’re smooth.” Rikke said, “Do they teach you that at your embassy?”

“Oh they teach us how to talk to people, just not at the embassy. If you haven’t noticed us Altmer don’t come from this wretched backwater. We’re trained in a more civilized land where there is plumbing in every building and a sewage system.” She smiled at Rikke who was now glaring at her and turned away sharply to enter the healers’ wing. She sat on the bed letting out a deep sigh and wondered what she was going to do with herself. She still wanted to get that potion done but that would mean a bunch of traveling but she wasn’t keen on leaving the Imperial headquarters especially after her freak out last night. She didn’t know if it’d happen again and to risk such an episode in a high stress situation, such as combat, would do her no good. By her estimations she had a few weeks before she was expected back at the embassy perhaps she could ingratiate herself to the imperials somehow without betraying the Thalmor. Make allies in some way even if it was with men who had limited power. She bit her lip and wondered if Rikke had any assignments she’d be willing to trust her with but even if she did could she manage it without losing control? If only a simple touch sent her into a meltdown what would happen when she was surrounded with enemies? 

A few seconds later she came up with a brilliant idea, she could easily enchant some armor. That’d require a bunch of soul gems but they could easily be bought from some wizards. She was trying to formulate a plan to get some gold when a moan from the bed across the room caught her attention. She looked over at the General who, to her surprise, was still asleep. He was shifting uncomfortably under his fur blankets, sweat dripped from his forehead, and a pained grimace adorned his age-lined face. She walked over to his bed noting how terrible he looked and rested her hand on his forehead, she nearly gasped at the heat coming off him, it felt like he was on fire but she could also feel him trembling beneath her touch. “Rikke!” She yelled, the General wasn’t getting better, somehow he was getting worse. She had no idea if this was normal for humans and felt a level of concern for a man she never had before. Than again no other man had saved her life, rescued her, protected her and comforted her either. 

Gadheriel’s head shot up as the door swung open with a bang and Rikke barged into the room recklessly, “What is it elf?”

“The General’s condition is worsening, grab the healer now!” She ordered, “Tell me there’s a servant some place in this castle.”

Rikke nodded, “Dinara! Come here!” within minutes of the Legate’s shout padding feet could be heard, “Go get the healer. I’m not leaving the General with this elf.” Gadheriel rolled her eyes, typical nord but the servant nodded and ran out the door.

“Please, I need a few clean clothes, a bowl of cold water, a cup and a pitcher of cold water.” Gadheriel told her, Rikke opened her mouth to argue but then looked at the General and thought better of it. The minute Rikke left the room Gadheriel threw the blankets off the old man and began removing his sweat soaked clothes. She threw them on the floor with his bedding, she grabbed a clean sheet out of the cabinet and threw it on his night stand. 

“Here!” Rikke said shoving the items at her, “What happened?”

She sat on the bed the bowl of cool water on her lap and dipped a rag in it, ringing it out she sighed, “I don’t know, I got in here and he was moaning. He must have took a turn for the worst last night. Is this normal for humans?”

“To get this sick? It’s normal in the way that it happens.” Rikke looked at her funny, “Do elves not get sick?”

“Only very rarely do we get sick like this, most of our illnesses are magical-borne illnesses.” She said quietly, “Or birth defects.” She gently cleansed his face with the cold rag, dipping it in the water and ringing it out every so often before folding it up and leaving it on his forehead. She used her fingers to gently comb his scalp and hair with cold water. She could feel Rikke watching her and sighed, “What?”

“What is it with you anyway? One minute you’re as cold as ice and the next you’re playing nurse maid.” 

She took another wash cloth and dipped it in the water slowly working her way from his neck to his arms and then his chest and stomach. She chewed her lip as she thought of how to answer, what could she possibly say that would make sense to this woman, “I am in a complicated position.” Is all she said to the nord, hoping the woman would drop the issue. She ran the cloth up his legs trying to keep her eyes adverted from his nudity.

“I’m trying to cool him down and get some of this sweat off him.” She offered to Rikke, “Help me get him on his side?” Rikke nodded and they turned him. She washed his back down and sighed as she noticed the soaking wet sheets. “We need to move him to a dry bed.” Between the two of them they were able to lift and carry him to the bed before her own and she began another pass over his body with the cool water. She grabbed the sheet and threw it over him. “Where is that healer?” She snapped just as the door opened and Edinoch swept into the room.

“Oh dear, move aside my dear.” He said, she stood aside apprehensively and watched as the priest placed a hand on the General’s forehead and chest. Golden threads erupted from beneath his palms but Gadheriel knew it would do no good. No restoration magic could cure illnesses. “Yes, should have realized, stupid of me.” He muttered and searched his robes for a few different potions. “Regeneration first.” He told himself quietly and began pouring it carefully down the General’s throat, then a health and last a stamina one. He turned to face them and sighed, “I do not have the ability to cure him, he is very ill, the only thing we can do is make sure his temperature stays as low as possible and keep feeding him potions. He has to fight this particular battle on his own.”

“Will he—I mean he is old for a human does that affect his ability to beat it?” She asked with apprehension, what if he died? What would that mean for her? Undoubtedly Rikke would kick her out, and then what? 

“Well it’s too early to think of the worst case scenario but I will not lie to you, it is much more difficult for older people to overcome illnesses than younger ones. He may make it through but it’s going to be hell. Keep an eye on him and if things get any worse send for me again.” Edinoch said before sweeping out.

“That’s it? A few potions and good luck wishes? That’s all that can be done? That is ridiculous! Healers on the Isles would be ashamed of themselves if that is all they could manage, a child could do that! Do humans not have a basic understanding of—” She sighed, no of course they didn’t they couldn’t even figure out basic plumbing.

She was surprised Rikke did not have any snide comment, she looked over and saw the nord staring at the General with worry etched into her eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake Legate! Snap out of it, staring at him isn’t going to get him better, go to the apothecary grab some potions!”

Rikke nodded without making a sound and followed her orders much to Gadheriel’s surprise. She sat beside the General’s head and grabbed his shoulders. Using all her strength she lifted him so his back leaned against her chest and slowly dripped some cold water into his mouth. It took a while to carefully get the cold drink down his throat but after a few glasses the pitcher was empty and Rikke walked back in setting the potions on the desk at the front of the room. She carefully laid the General back down and made sure the cloth on his head was still cool, she dipped it back in the water and rinsed it before placing it back on his head. 

“What do you do in the Isles when someone does get sick?” Rikke asked softly.

Gadheriel looked up at her surprised, “You really want to know?”

Rikke looked at her confused but nodded, Gadheriel sighed, “Well we have a lot of magical plants and animals that we can make curatives from and other potions to assist with symptoms and what not that can’t be found any where else. Most of the time though it’s easier and more effective if the potion is mixed into food of some sort, usually a broth.”

“There’s no apothecary in Skyrim with Alinor connections.” Rikke said quietly before her eyes lit up, “The embassy though—surely they have the ingredients, can’t you—”

“No.” She said darkly, “I can not just walk in to the embassy and grab the ingredients needed.”

Rikke’s face darkened, outrage in her eyes, “You’re willing to let him suffer to save your own hide? He is in this condition because of you!” 

Gadheriel stood up, anger pouring off her, “Do you not think before you speak? This has nothing to do with my life—It is already forfeit!” She snapped, she looked back at the General his face pale, he looked so weak it frightened her. As pathetic and ashamed as it made her feel she didn’t want to lose the only person she felt safe with. 

“Then you will have no problem getting the—” Rikke began before Gadheriel threw her hands in the air in frustration.

“Legate I want to help the General as well, he saved my life. I owe it to him. It’s not that simple. Tell me what do you think the Thalmor would do when they found out that the General of the Imperial Legion in Skyrim was so sick he might die?” She asked the Legate softly.

A heavy silence permeated the room before the Legate sighed, “You’re right, I’m sorry it’s just—I’ve served with him for so long and well you’re the enemy, a Thalmor I mean. It wasn’t so long ago you would have killed him.”

“Perhaps not, but we’re not at war at the moment and I too have a vested interest in him.” She said simply as she began to clean up the mess. 

“You’re using him?” Rikke folded her arms across her chest.

“Well I won’t lie that is one vested interest. You’re right, at the moment, as I am sure you have surmised long before today, I need Imperial protection. Elenwen may think I am out and about doing my duty but it won’t be long before she realizes something is amiss. I fell out of her favor a while back and I was already on thin ice.” She sighed, “But that is not the only reason. Like I said he saved my life, and he has done more for me in the last few days than any of my colleagues ever have.”

Rikke looked at her surprised, if not also a bit suspiciously, “You’re not close to any of your fellow Thalmor?”

She shrugged, “The Thalmor are not the same as an army. They do not have the brotherhood kind of vibe that most armies do. We’re much more of an organization where each individual is radically devoted to the cause forsaking everything else, including their lives. We compete for top positions with no care about any other person. The only time we come together in the way humans seem to is out on the battlefield. Elves don’t like to lose and if that means working as one we will. Other than that it is more business like, and you have to watch your back.” 

“Why would anyone sign up for that?” Rikke said looking aghast.

“Some people do not, there is forced service. But others really do believe in the cause enough to overlook the coldness that is existence in the Thalmor.” She sighed, she didn’t know why exactly she was answering these questions but in the end she figured it might help to build a repertoire with the Legion’s Second in Command.

“Forced service?” Rikke asked, “Like a draft?”

A bitter smile grew on her face, “Something like that.” She sighed and plopped down on her bed. “Pull up a chair if you want to talk about this.” She nodded to the one by the fire, to her surprise Rikke actually did so. She was taken aback, the two of them hadn’t gotten along since the day she awoke here and yet Rikke seemed like she was genuinely interested. She knew it was most likely information that would make its way back to the empire but nothing she said would hurt the Thalmor in the end. “Do you know how the Thalmor came to be?” Rikke shrugged and shook her head.

“There have been many different Thalmor uprisings throughout Altmer history, we never quite purged them but for the most part the majority of the High Elves were not supporters. That isn’t to say my people don’t believe in our superiority, we do whether right or wrong, but still the majority never thought to be violent about it. We were fine in our superiority being left alone and living our lives and what not. Our heritage and ancestry is why we believe we are superior. It is said we come from the gods, that we were in fact once gods but fell and became the Aldmer but that there was a way back to godhood if we just tried hard enough. And so, we try to be perfect in every single possible way.” She paused grabbing herself a cup of water, “You got any wine? I feel like we’re going to need something more than water to drink.”

Rikke nodded and disappeared for a few moments before coming back with a bottle of spiced wine. Gadheriel gladly poured them both large glasses of the beverage before continuing, “Like I said we were minding our own business but then Tiber Septim came.” She looked into the fire, a small frown creasing her eyes. “The nords think of him as a hero, Talos this and Talos that but that is no surprise the nords always had a deep hatred for elves anyway. They never see us as any different. Dunmer, Falmer, Bosmer, Orsimer, Altmer….just mer’s to them.” She said bitterly. She took a deep breath, “But Tiber Septim was nothing but a Dictator to us. He wanted nothing more than power to dominant everyone else, as if he had a right. We had power too, but do you think we went around killing people? No we minded our own damn business, but that wasn’t good enough for him, no he thought he had the right to rule over everyone like he was ever so qualified because he could speak some fancy magic words…” She breathed in again calming herself.

“You must understand…nords, your people, see Tiber Septim as a strong honorable man who united Tamriel. It is all good and well when you view it from that lone one-sided stand point of hero worshiping. Perhaps he did have good intentions, maybe he did want to create peace but what he did to my people was uncalled for. It was sadistic, cruel, unwarranted genocide. We just wanted to be left alone, but instead he invaded. We did nothing to him, but he killed our people—men, woman, children it didn’t matter. If it had elven blood in its veins it died. His men raped wives and daughters while forcing husbands and fathers to watch, it mattered not the age. They burned down our homes and tortured us. We fought back as much as we could but it was unexpected and we were ill-prepared for an invasion. He killed, raped and tortured half the elven population before we finally gave in and had to subjugate ourselves to the people who committed such heinous acts against us.” She said her voice quiet and soft, she lifted her eyes from the fire and to Rikke’s, “Of course then the superiority we felt turned to rage, it churned within us as we buried our dead children, spouses and tried to rebuild our lives. It seeped into every aspect of us, we couldn’t get away, elves live much longer than men and so our memories, our history, our pain stretches on as well.”

“It turned to resentment and hatred over the years and the Thalmor began to take root. Eventually what was left of us was split in half again, some just wanted to go back the way it was, to be left alone. Though that wasn’t going to happen. Others just wanted to heal from the pain and stay with the Empire, easier than going to war and risking more lives lost. And then the Thalmor who wanted revenge camouflaged as some noble quest to unite Tamriel. Elven Superiority was the number one priority, we knew more then men, we’re more powerful, and men could obviously not be trusted to keep peace longer than it took to take a fucking piss. The Thalmor thought they could get revenge and bring peace through elven sovereignty at once. And so people began to join, but then slowly you could see the hatred behind the guise of their pretty words. It wasn’t so bad at first but then they became bullies. They’d kidnap people, torture them, blackmail them, anything to win people over. Then they formed the Third Aldmeri Dominion and you either accepted their ruling or died. And so the Summerset Isle erupted into a civil war, short as it was. As if there was enough of us left to oppose the majority of our own brethren, as if we had the ability to do so crippled by the damn empire! No, the Dominion made short work of those High elves that stood in their way, you accepted their ruling or you died, simple as that.” She took a long gulp of her drink.

“Did the empire not send people over to protect their own interest?” Rikke asked, there was no inflection in her voice, just soft curiosity. Gadheriel was relieved.

“They did but by then it was much too late. The Empire was much more concerned about their own people then they ever had been with any other under their rule.” Gadheriel spat, “As if what they did to us wasn’t enough they then allowed another slaughter! But we’re just elves, right, so who cares. Apparently to humans it’s some crime to be born with pointed ears.” She sneered but another gulp of wine calmed her enough to carry on, “And so the Great War began. The Summerset Isles belonged to the Third Aldmeri Dominion, or Thalmors. As you know the Great War was terrible, many died on all sides, and although the Summerset Isles belonged to the Thalmor and we had all bowed to them to avoid death that didn’t mean we joined the ranks as Thalmor, just their citizens. Yet so many died in the war, and the empire had so many more people to pull soldiers from they never hurt for men to die for them. The Thalmor however didn’t have that luxury, at first they tried incentives but as the war went on and more of us were lost no one wanted to sign up. So the Thalmor did what they do best. They took by force. Any and all able bodied men were drafted, by force if necessary. Sometimes they would kidnap or take something of great value as collateral until they served their time or died in battle. Then they decided it was best if they began training recruits young, so they searched for good families to buy their children from or kidnap them. If they ran the Thalmor hunted them down and killed the childs parents and took the kid anyway. Put them in training schools. And so terror reigned, the Great War was won using the same tactics used against us. I tell you regardless of anyone’s beliefs on the Thalmor back home we all found it ironic and a bittersweet victory when the Empire had to bow to us with the White-gold concordat just like we had to bow to them to save ourselves.” She smiled maliciously. 

“And now here we are, with elves in control of the Empire and Thalmor in Skyrim. A hatred running so deep in most of my colleagues veins it is the same as breathing air. I won’t deny it, I still hold anger but I am not blinded by it. I know the men of today are not the same men who terrorized us. It wasn’t hatred that made me join up, I joined because I believed the mission statement. Elven Superiority. One can be better than another without treating it poorly. A soldier is stronger than a child are they not? Yet both hold value. Elves are stronger than men—biologically so. Magically, intellectually, and physically. We live longer, we know history better. I could go on. This does not mean those that are not mer are not valuable, in fact I dare say they do some things better than mer, be that as it may however mankind is far behind elves. I simply wish to change that, unfortunately I am left no choice but to conquer the lands of mankind because god forbid anyone takes the advice of someone with pointed ears. Men rather bash my brains in with an axe for daring to breathe.” She sighed, “Everyone looks at it differently, and I am not so fond of a lot of my organizations actions, but it is what I have to work with for now. Bide your time and opportunities will arise.” 

She began chuckling humorlessly then as she remembered, her left hand trembling as it caressed her ear, “Of course I don’t have pointed ears anymore.” She giggled but it was strangled by tears rushing forth and she shut her eyes as a strong surge of grief swept through her. What kind of elf was she now? “My ears are gone, they clipped my ears.” She said, devastation written on her face. Rikke merely poured her another glass of wine and slammed it in front of her.

“Drink up elf.” Rikke said raising her chin. 

She grabbed the glass and chugged it down without taking a breath liking the burn that lingered in her chest, “Mmm….any questions class?”

Rikke shook her head, “I have never thought of Tiber Septim from the elven point of view. As you have said, we are not the same. A lot is lost in time. I—Thank you for this. I may still dislike the Thalmor but it helps to understand where they come from.”

She smiled, “Going to dismantle us from the foundation?” She raised an eyebrow.

“That’s the plan.” Rikke’s eyes flickered over to the General, “If he makes it, if not god forbid Bastillion is going to be a pain in the ass.” 

“He’ll make it. While I was telling you our history I came up with a plan. You will watch the General as I try to attain what is needed?” She asked, not that there was much question of course Rikke would. She stood and brushed herself off. “I will return later. Find me if he worsens.” She nodded towards the General with one last look at the Legate and left.

She breathed in the fresh air, glad to be out of that room. The pain of her people seemed to permeate it the more she spoke or thought about it until it was suffocating and heavy, but now she was free and her eyes traveled to the market place. It would be too easy to place pressure at just the right points and have what she needed procured for her. All she needed was leverage and she could think of no better place for that then Radiant Raiments. A few minutes later she stepped into the stuffy shop and nodded towards Endarie the nicer of the two sisters but not the one easiest to manipulate by any means. Instead her gaze fixated on Taarie. “How’s business Taarie?”

“Oh great, a customer. I almost didn’t see you there you blend in with the wall so well.” Taarie commented dryly.

She smiled, “Yes I know, it is terrible wearing tacky clothing made with subpar materials.” Taarie glanced at the dress curiously, Gadheriel smiled innocently as a scowl quickly overtook Taarie’s face, “Ah you recognize it I see. Do tell me how one of our kind could possibly make this crap and have the gall to sell it without being completely embarrassed and ashamed of it?”

“You have seen the state of this horrid place have you not?” Taarie sniffed.

“I have been in Skyrim long enough to understand the nords sense of fashion is to wear dead things with horribly clashing colors that look more like bathing robes than anything else. However that does not answer my question. Surely it is our duties as Mer to educate mankind, and how exactly is catering to their ignorance enlightening them? Perhaps you wish to keep them in the dark ages to make your pathetic life look so much better?” She smiled slowly.

“Oh please Gadheriel, so dramatic it bores me. You know well enough that I do not cater to the Thalmor agenda.” Taarie said resting her chin on her hand and yawning.

“Yes I remember that, although I do believe we could become much more involved in all aspects of our cousins lives, don’t you? I also find it interesting that you sell this wretched material for four times what you actually pay for it. It is no wonder you have little business.” Gadheriel said studying the noble clothes with disdain. 

“If you have something to say Gadheriel just spit it out already, I have better things to do than listen to you drivel on.” 

“I love your enthusiasm Taarie and yes yes I do have a proposition for you. You need paying customers and I need gold. Let’s make a simple arrangement. Give me your best piece and I shall wear it to the Blue Palace and speak to Elisif herself. It should not be so hard to get her to commission you for work and once she starts to wear it everyone else will as well. I want a cut of those profits.”

Taarie was silent for a while, pondering as she dusted the countertop, she curled her lip and looked up, “How much are we talking?”

“Well 1000 gold up front after I speak to Elisif, afterwards I want 30 percent of any sale.” 

Taarie nodded, “Fine, wait here I have just the thing for you. I think it may even fit you with only slight adjustments needed.” 

Moments later the rude elf reappeared with a dress that was absolutely appalling, Gadheriel looked disgusted, “Are you serious?”

“The nords love this stuff. I don’t understand it either.” 

Gadheriel laughed, “Very well, I shall return in a minute.” She slid into a dressing room and quickly changed clothes, the coarse material scratchy against her soft skin. She’d have to put up with it for now, it would be worth it all in the end. Her mind turned to the sick man in the Castle and sighed. She’d make him better, she had to. Leaving the shop she made straight for Blue palace passing a crazed man speaking of his master on vacation as if she cared. She easily made it past the guards and up the stairs of the large palace, it wasn’t so bad for a nordic palace, it was impressive compared to anything else the nords had managed.

She climbed the stairs and smiled at Elisif, she was beautiful and made such a great figure head for the Empire in Skyrim. Not entirely useful to the Thalmor agenda but still apparently easy enough to manipulate which was a plus. She approached the widowed Jarl and gave a short bow, “Jarl Elisif, I hope you are in good health my lady.” 

“Oh hello there, I don’t believe we’ve met before. I am well thank you, but may I ask who you are?” Elisif asked, the woman had such a soft spoken voice it was dainty and weak, not suited for more than a domesticated house wife. 

“My name is Sadirana.” She lied easily, no way was she foolish enough to give her actual name when the Jarls often had Thalmor visitors. “I have come in the hopes that I may prevail on you for assistance.”

She seemed surprised, “My assistance? Why my dear I am flattered that you think I could be of any help to you, rest assured if something can be done I will see to it. These days all I get are looks of pity and offers of sympathy. Well-meaning I am sure but too many see me as weak. Not true at all, I believe going on in such tragic circumstances, to do what must be done regardless of how one feels is strength. Don’t you agree?” She asked smiling.

Gadheriel smiled, “Certainly. People are tested in life, there is hardship for everyone but only those with the strength of character will be remembered.”

“Indeed. Skyrim needs to be united not divided. So what is it you wish to ask of me?” 

“There has been sightings of a group of Stormcloaks pressing into the Solitude area from Dawnstar. Travelers have been harassed and just the other week a few bodies were found. Innocent elven merchants escaping from the bigotry and violence in Windhelm wishing to start anew in Solitude from what I have gathered. People are beginning to be afraid to approach the city not knowing if their body will join the others.” She said in a grave voice. She had loved her acting lessons at the Thalmor school. She had excelled in it enough for it to be boring but it had been great fun making the other girls jealous.

Elisif looked shocked for just a split second than outrage clouded her face and she sat up straighter and turned to her steward, “Falk, you must gather some of the Solitude guards at once, I want patrols outside the city gates on the main roads in and out of the city. Send a messenger to Castle Dour, General Tullius must deal with this threat at once!”

“My Jarl, do you think it wise to send guards outside of the city in this trying time? What if Ulfric was to attack the city?” Falk asked apprehension in his voice.

“Than they will be in a perfect position to report back before Ulfric’s men can reach the gates, but there is no threat to Solitude from Ulfric. He does not have the strength to take on Solitude and the Imperials just yet. For now we are safe but these innocent people wishing to come here for protection are not. I will not sit idly by while my people are killed, to do so would appear weak.” 

“Yes, of course, you are right my Jarl. Apologies for questioning your wisdom.” Falk stated with a bow of his head.

“It is no worries my dear steward, it is good to get input.” She smiled at Falk kindly, her eyes lingering on him longer than necessary. Gadheriel stored that little tidbit of information in her mind just in case it ever became necessary. Elisif turned to look at her and beamed, “You were wise to bring this to my attention traveler. I must thank you somehow. Please, tell me is there anything I can do for you?”

“My Jarl it is such an honor to meet you I have heard many great things, I would ask nothing for myself but for a friend in need who also happens to be one of your people.” She said softly, she could feel the cage door closing slowly, trapping Elisif.

“Certainly, what is it?” 

“Well, as you know in war a strong economy is important. Not only for the war itself but for morale, unfortunately there are some businesses suffering in your market place that are essential to all, such as Radiant Raiment. I would ask that you look upon my person and if you like the dress I wear to please consider giving them your business. Your influence is great and supporting your local business, if it suits you, could greatly benefit all your people.” 

Elisif’s eyes traveled up and down her as Gadheriel slowly rotated in a circle before Elisif nodded, “That is very delicate and fine, quite beautiful. I can see the meticulous handiwork on it too. Very well. I shall commission them to make me a few dresses. I am very proud to advertise our hard working people, and I’ll look great to boot!”

“Thank you my Jarl, you are very kind and generous. I wish you good tidings. May you die with a sword in your hand.” She bowed her head as she stepped back.

“You as well Traveler. Good day.” 

Hearing the dismissal she turned and left quickly, wanting nothing more than to get this horrid thing off of her, yet she couldn’t have been more pleased that she had been successful. It only took a few moments to collect her gold and change into the dress, thankful it was made with much softer material. She breathed in deeply, the first part of her journey was done but the next step would by far be more challenging and dangerous. She felt the creeping anxiety try to take hold of her but when she set foot in her room again and her eyes fell to the General her resolve hardened. This man had ridden through hell for her, nearly died for her, lost one of his men and still might die for saving her. She was not going to let the fear of what could possibly happen stop her from saving him for once. She checked his temperature, he was burning up even more. Alarmed she ran for the tub in the next room and dragged it to the side of his bed. His face and chest were bright red as if he was sunburned and his mouth hung open limply. She could hear his rasping breaths. His lungs were struggling for air. “Rikke! I need buckets of cold water, NOW!” She yelled. Her heart pounded as she gently slid him into the tub glad she had kept him naked. 

“Hold on General, you’re not allowed to die just yet, Ulfric is still out there.” She muttered as she settled him in. Rikke and Dinara ran in slopping water all over. She ran for a few buckets herself until the tub was filled with cool water. “Give me the regeneration potion!” She pointed it out to the confused looking Legate and then helped the unconscious General drink it. “Let him soak in that for a bit, he is burning up.” 

He groaned and muttered, “Please…please I won’t do it again..not that Mother…” Gadheriel froze at the words and looked at him softly for a second wondering if he was having delusions or recalling a memory better left buried. She looked sharply up at Rikke, “Leave.”

“What—why? You can’t order me—”

“Legate, he is your superior officer. You must think sometimes. Imagine yourself in this position, would you want your subordinates to see you like this, hear your mutterings?” She asked sharply. 

Rikke bit her lip and shook her head, “Fine but if anything happens to him while I am not here I will make you wish you had been the one that died.”

“Of course. Now please go.” Gadheriel said exasperated. She thought she had a breakthrough with the Legate but she supposed she couldn’t fault the nord for loyalty. At least the people of Skyrim had that going for them, if only she could get that loyalty redirected. Once the door closed behind Rikke she turned back to the sick and distressed General. He jerked about disorganized as his eyes cracked open, his gaze was hazy and glassy. His body slid farther into the tub his head dangerously close to going under. She rushed forward and grabbed him circling around the tub she knelt down behind it her arm slung around his bare chest pressing him firmly against the back of the tub so he could go no farther, the back of his head resting against her shoulder. She could still feel the heat emanating from him in boiling hot waves. She cursed her inability to use frost magic, it had always been the most difficult for her to utilize she couldn’t even manage a simple frostbite. 

“I don’t want to…don’t make me…” he moaned.

“I won’t General, it’s okay you’re safe.” She said softly, finally able to return the gestures of comfort he had so readily provided her. It would dishonor her greatly had she turned her back but she didn’t want to regardless. How could she turn away the best part of mankind she had ever seen? She cupped some of the water and gently poured it over his head. She rubbed it into his scalp again and washed his face. He shuddered, she tightened her arm around his chest and thought about how inappropriate this would seem out of context. 

She could feel him trembling and held him as tightly as she could, “Don’t leave me here…” He murmured a pleading tone that constricted her heart slid from his mouth. It hadn’t been so long since she had pleaded for her own life, she could only imagine what he had been through as a General to provoke such an extreme reaction. 

“I won’t leave you, I’m right here.” She whispered in his ear.

“Don’t go.” He said his head turning weakly to face her own.

She looked down at him, “I’m not I promise you that.”

“Are you my guardian angel?”

She chuckled at that, “Well for tonight I am. I’ll get you through this I promise you that.” 

“If you say so, she’ll be mad though. She won’t be happy that you’re helping me.” He said giving her a sad look, “I don’t want her to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry she can’t hurt me.” She said softly, this was no delusion, it was far too coherent. He was reliving something terrible, she wished there was a way to pull him out of it. His words sounded too young to be an adult, something from his childhood after all these years? Though things in her own childhood still hurt her terribly and she was far older than he would ever be. She frowned at the thought, it didn’t seem right that someone as brave and honorable as he would live such a short life. She sighed hating the mortality of good men but wishing it sooner upon those she deemed bad. It was a conundrum. She turned her attention quickly back to him. “I have magic.”

He went quiet for a long time before his eyes shut again and he lay limply in the tub. She frowned and checked his forehead, the fever was receding but not by much. She cursed not knowing what else to do for him, she felt inadequate and ill-prepared. An idea came to her suddenly, “Rikke!” She called out, not surprised when the burly nord woman nearly crashed through the door.

“What is it?!” She said breathlessly.

“Go to the apothecary get me some Ice wraith teeth and fire salts!” Gadheriel ordered swiftly, the nord nodded and ran out herself not bothering to get a servant. Gadheriel lifted the General from the tub on to the bed, her muscles screamed at her before she cast a telekinesis spell and gently guided him onto the bed completely. She grabbed a towel and dried him off before throwing the sheet over him again. She waited impatiently until the Legate shoved a bowl in her hands. She set aside the teeth and mixed some fire salts in with what and slowly poured it in his mouth. She broke the ice wraith teeth and let each piece melt in his mouth before tilting his head back and setting him down again.

“What were they for?” Rikke asked her curiously

“The fire salts help fire resistances, and the ice wraith keeps things cold, it is worth a shot, but tomorrow I must leave, will you be able to watch him tomorrow?” Gadheriel asked looking up at the concerned nord.

“Yes. The Empire needs a report from him though or they’ll send someone else. He’s been avoiding it for days wondering what to tell them of you. If he doesn’t reply soon they’ll send someone to investigate.” Rikke explained worriedly.

“Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself, do what you must.” Gadheriel said touched that the Legate thought of her at all.

“Where are you going anyway?” Rikke asked.

“Best if you do not know in the very unlikely case one of my colleagues come asking, but it’s to get him help.” She answered looking down at him, “I’ll stay with him tonight. Go rest.” 

She didn’t realize how much time passed already, she had spent most of the afternoon and evening worrying about and tending the General. She began packing a small bag with supplies: a small blanket, water skin, clothes, food and gold. Everything she’d need for the road before sliding into bed and drifting off. She had hoped to get as much sleep as possible but at four am she was awoken to the sound of wood shaking and bolted up. The minute her eyes landed on the General she jumped out of the bed and ran to him. He was convulsing on the bed, she hated seizures there was nothing she could do but try a few calming spells to dispel the energy in the nerves. She quickly placed a hand on his forehead and let the soft hum envelope him in the deep red of her calming spell. She looked on anxiously only noticing a marginal difference, she cursed her choice to specialize in alteration and conjuration. “RIKKE!” She yelled, her heart leaping into her throat. It took a few minutes before the door crashed open.

“By the eight what is happening to him?!”Rikke said fear lining her face and lighting her eyes. 

“He is having a seizure, there’s nothing we can do but wait it out. Use some cold compresses to help cool him down alright? I’m leaving now. If I wait any longer it may be too late.” She said hurriedly, she slipped on her shoes and grabbed her bags. She took one last look at the man who had saved her and rushed out into the night air. She was glad none of her colleagues were here to see her or anyone in Summerset for that matter, they’d think her insane and uncouth but that hardly mattered now, she had a debt to pay. She ran out of Solitude gates and grabbed a horse from the stables, she could hear the stablemaster yelling after her and calling the guards but she didn’t care. She mounted up and kicked the horse into a gallop. For hours she rode on and on, worry in every beat of her heart, fear that it would be too late. A connection had formed between them since the day he had saved her, now she would do the saving. After all what kind of High Elf would she be if she let a simple fever overcome her abilities? Pitiful. Pathetic. Especially for a master of the arcane. She made a mental note to learn all schools of magic after this not just those that interested her. She was an expert in restoration, a master in fire and lightning, alteration and conjuration but she hated illusion magic though she was adept in that at least anyway but nowhere near good enough to help the General. 

She passed through DragonBridge in a blur, barely seeing the houses she was so focused on the road, it would be a while until Markarth but she had to make it. Hours passed and no matter how often her horse slowed down hoping for a break she pushed it harder. The beast would give out soon but she hardly cared she’d just grab another one in Markarth for the ride back home. The sun rose and still she hadn’t reached Markarth, she had to take a few short cuts and weave over dangerous terrain to avoid forsworn and bandits alike. She had no time to entertain them in battle, it wasn’t until mid-morning that the large mountainside dwemer city came into view, she dismounted her horse who nearly collapsed and opened the city gates. She ran through the city not caring what else was happening. She cursed the stairs and the inconvenient set up but finally she reached the keep and pushed the doors open. She gasped for air as the cool dark air washed over and her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. She had to becareful she knew the commander of the Thalmor was here. Ondolemar if she remembered correctly. She could not be seen by him. She creeped to the left as much as possible until she finally reached Calcelmo. 

“Thank god, you’re Calcelmo, right?” She gasped out her chest and sides burned and her vision was tunneling as she leaned against the enchanting table. She could feel her legs shaking. 

“Yes, and if you don’t mind I am very busy—” the old Altmer mage in dusty black robes began.

“I do mind, I need your help and you will give it. I have rode all night to get here. I have a very important order to make.” She held up the bag of gold.

“I have no need for gold my dear, I do not measure riches in coin but in knowledge.” But she could see Aicanter looking longingly at the bulging coin purse.

“Aicanter, how about you, interested in helping me? A thousand gold is in it for you.” She offered.

“Well what is it you need? I am very busy with my Uncle’s work, I can hardly be disturbed for something insignificant. I am no sell sword after all.” He replied haughtily.

She listed the different herbs and animal parts she needed quickly, pleading with him to hand them over, “The gold should more than cover it and you know it, please.” 

He sighed, “What if we need it for—” 

“You can easily buy some more and still have a profit. Please time is of the essence!” She hissed. He relented and went over to the alchemy table sifting through the ingredients he placed them in large vials and handed them over. She shoved them carefully in her bag and nodded. “Thank you.” And with that she was off once more. She ran across the city of stone barely registering peoples cries of outrage and guards calling after her in anger. She threw open the door and grabbed the painted horse leaving the golden one from Solitude behind as payment. She threw herself on top of the horse groaning as her legs hurt terribly from the long hours riding but there was no time for that. She kicked the horse into gear and it rushed off. She cringed as they flew past mountains and small settlements, the beautiful landscape nearly a blur around her. After a few hours she was almost halfway but was nearly falling asleep on the horse, if not for the extreme pain she was in she’d have fallen off snoring. 

She brought the horse to a steady canter and drank a stamina potion to keep herself awake and chased it down with a simple loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and apple but when she went to wash it down she found her water skin empty. She sighed and dismounted tears gathering in her eyes as the pain radiated up her thighs. She wobbled over to the river a few feet away and trudged into water lowering the skin carefully into the water. She sighed as she drank greedily. It felt good to be in the fresh cool air of Skyrim outside of a bustling city. It was peaceful and quiet, no one was there to threaten her, no one she needed to play act for. No expectations, no rules, and no terrible cruelty. She wished she could stay longer but there were far more important things than her comfort. She swung herself into the saddle once more and brought the horse to a fast gallop. Three hours later they finally reached Dragon bridge she was halfway through the city when a terrible loud hissing bang erupted in front of her horse and hazy black smoke engulfed them. She could not even see the sun through the thick black sand storm that stung her eyes. Her horse reared up and she grabbed her bags to secure the rare and valuable vials in them. She slid off the horse violently landing on her back on the hard dirt road. She gasped for breath and doused her free hand in flames. The smoke cleared within seconds and before her stood a breton man tall and imposing in a dark red and black uniform.

She looked at the man in surprise, she had thought they had driven the Dark Brotherhood out of Skyrim but here was one of their agents brandishing twin daggers before her. “You go to Sithis today elf!” The breton cried as he leapt forward. So stunned by this display that she didn’t have a chance to take the offensive instead dodge rolling to her right. The pain in her legs did not help her as she struggled to stand. She had thought he would be to her left when she regained her balance but he was nowhere to be seen, she ran forward and sidestepped to the right barely missing the dagger that whistled through the air in an arc. He was fast and she was slow in pain and out of shape. It had been a long while since she had seen combat like this. She looked around wondering where everyone was, it was practically the middle of the afternoon, didn’t anyone see or hear the commotion? Wasn’t there a Penitus Oculatus out post here? She dodged again and again, side stepping, rearing her head or stomach back all the while clutching the bag safely to her stomach. She had been lucky so far but she couldn’t go on like this forever. As if to prove her point he faked her out and the dagger sliced through her thin dress and into her shoulder. She cried out in agony for only a second before gritting her teeth. That was all it took for her wits to come back to her and anger at this inferior being for daring to harm one such as her. She raised her hand and spun a lasso of fire before wrapping it around herself. Her body flared with warmth before fire burst forth swirling around her dangerously. The breton jumped back in shock but she was not going to let him survive this battle.

She ran at him, tackling him to the ground with her good shoulder, using her knee to pin him down as she watched him burn to death. His screams of agony broke the stillness of the small town and she could hear a few doors open and people begin to yell and gasp. She was intent on watching the life go out of his eyes but a shadow obscured her vision, she looked up startled once again the flames dying out as her concentration broke. Above her was a Pentilus agent. She looked back down and saw she had missed the moment she had so sweetly wished to witness and despite her disappointment managed to clamber painfully back to her feet. “Perhaps you should do your job sometime, I’m sure my people would love to hear about how the Dark Brotherhood is still in existence after we gave orders to destroy it.” She told the agent coldly. He scowled at her.

“They are tricky bastards. We’ve driven them out everywhere else, we won’t fail to exterminate the last of them that fled here I assure you.” He nodded at her, “Though why the Thalmor care about the brotherhood is beyond me.”

“Perhaps we just don’t like Daedra, or assassins with their own rules.” She smiled as she climbed on top of her horse. She felt blood oozing from her wound but she had no time to fix it just yet. She didn’t give the man any time to respond as she galloped away. Her shoulder ached terribly but she was too tired to actually heal it herself. She could get a potion when she made it back to Solitude. It only took a few more hours to get there but she still feared she would find the General dead. She forced herself to wobble up the pathway and eventually into Castle Dour. She leaned against the wall her exhaustion, pain and blood loss taking a toll, but she had to get to the General. She slid along the wall until she crashed into the door and swung inside with the momentum. She looked blearily down at the General through a blurry daze. She could see his chest rising and falling but it was irregular and shallow and he was deathly pale. “Dear Lord what happened to you?!” Rikke blurted out in shock at the bloody mess she was in.

“Dark Brotherhood.” She slurred as she stumbled forward, “But I got the ingredients.” She held out her bag to Rikke who took it and helped her to her bed. “No I can’t—I need to make the soup.”

“Soup?” Rikke said looking at her like she had lost it.

“Must be a broth. Trust me.”

“Trust me you need to heal and rest first. You can tell me what to do and I’ll follow your lead.” Rikke said sternly. She nodded numbly and shrugged off her dress, hissing in pain. She laid a hand over the wound and let the golden threads of her restoration magic knit the wound close. It took all her magic to do so however but when it was done her head cleared. “Need stamina, magicka and healing potion please.” Rikke hurried to the table picking out the right ones and she gulped them down. She threw the bloodied dress on the floor and slid another one over her head before laying down. 

“Okay, you need to find a chicken carcass. Your kitchen probably has one. Add some celery and onions but nothing else, not even chicken. Do that now.” She said quietly her eyes resting for a second. She listened to the sounds of shuffling feet, doors opening and closing and then the sound of water being poured into a cauldron a few feet away from her. She looked over and smiled, “Gonna have to let that boil a bit then we’ll need to strain it.” 

“Dark brotherhood you say? Who put a contract out on you?” Rikke asked curiously.

“Could be a number of people Legate, did you forget the Thalmor have many enemies?” She smiled wryly, “To be honest I do not much care. I am used to assassination attempts, it means I’m doing my job one way or another, or just pissing Elenwen off enough to make me happy.” Rikke snorted.

“Worth that wound in your shoulder though?” She asked as she began straining the broth.

“Ah, I am out of practice, which by the way I was thinking I could practice with you. If you don’t mind.” Gadheriel looked over at you tiredly.

“You want me to help a Thalmor get back in battling condition?” Rikke raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“How about a friend?” She offered begrudgingly, a few days bickering with this woman had somehow cemented her friendship with the irrational but loyal to a fault nord. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. If not me than it’d be some other poor unsuspecting soul.” She answered dryly, Gadheriel laughed out loud surprising herself.

“Okay now you got to put the Appelonas in. It’s the vial with the red seeds, yes, just a sprinkle. Very good. Let them sit there until they float to the top. In the meantime chop up the Camberlings, the thick green, star shaped leaves. Yes. Once the Appelonas float just sprinkle some of that in. Then when the broth turns blue—”

“Blue?!” Rikke blurted in surprise.

“Yes blue, magic Legate, it’s magic. So when it turns blue you’ll want to add the Vergonts they are the diced up things that look like grapes, but are definitely not.” She fell quiet and let her catch up with her directions smirking when the broth turned blue and Rikke gasped in amazement. “Now take an eye from the jar and squeeze the juice into the broth. Stir than add the grounded citrihnel on top do not stir or mix just leave it. Give it a bit too cool down then we can give a bowl full to the General.” 

“So all these ingredients have magic in them? Does everything in your land?” Rikke asked curious

“Yes for the most part at least. It’s a beautiful place, full of mystery since not everything has been discovered yet.” She sighed, “I miss the Isles, Alinor especially, but Skyrim will do for now, until I find my inevitable death up here.” 

“Undoubtedly.” Rikke said as she spooned some broth into a bowl and began carefully feeding it to the General.

“He’ll be okay until tomorrow, so don’t worry. I’m going to sleep.” Gadheriel said tiredly yawning,

The next few days passed in peaceful monotony, if it weren’t for the needs of the General she’d have gone insane. Instead she spent the day at his side bathing him, giving him his potions and making sure he had three bowls of the broth each day. Rikke helped her as much as possible but even she had to return to her other duties now that the General was out of danger. Any time the Legate and her troops would leave on some type of assignment or raid they’d come back hours later and line up for Gadheriel to heal. Some did so with quiet trust others with resentful disdain but it mattered not to her. She was much more concerned with each days passing bringing her closer to her imminent day of reckoning with Elenwen. She figured the only way to get past this was to actually do her job and hope Elenwen didn’t mention the lengthy amount of time it took to do so. She was not fond of the idea of going back out to Ivarstead or spending any amount of time in Stormcloak territory, much less doing so alone but she could see no alternative. She turned over in bed that Fredas night hoping that tomorrow things would seem better.

* * *

  
He felt like he was wading through thick water as his eyes opened groggily, his muscles were stiff and his body ached. He slowly sat up in bed and looked around wondering how he had gotten across the room. He tossed the sheet off and stood, he grasped the headboard as a wave of dizziness hit him. It was strangely chilly in the normally warm healer’s wing but when he looked down he realized he was naked and scowled. What the hell happened? All he could remember was doing paperwork, trying to figure out what to do about the elf. Had she poisoned him? What had she done to him? Surely Rikke wouldn’t have allowed the Thalmor to harm him, unless of course something had happened to his second in command. He scowled in the direction of the sleeping elf. He grabbed a clean uniform off the bed across from his and slowly put it on, he still felt weak but still so much better than he had before. He was only a bit warm, his head was no longer foggy or throbbing and he was no longer fighting to stay awake. He was starving though, his stomach rumbled in agreement. He was relieved to find Rikke in the next room, the nord fumbled around trying to get to her feet. Shock was written in her eyes but a smile slid on to her face, “General, you’re awake!”

“Yes.” Her presence only gave him more questions, “Perhaps you could inform me of why I have awoken naked and in a different bed than I recall falling asleep in.” He looked at the table between them scattered with parchment, he sifted through them frowning. Some were plans to attack certain forts, or question certain people he had written up but a report in the Legate’s hand was attached to each as was protocol when a job was finished. There was no way she had done all these in the time—well in what time? He had no idea what day it was, he had assumed it was early the next morning but how could he be so sure?

“Yes sir but first you need to have your soup.” Rikke said pointing down the table where the tabletop was clear.

“Very well.” He couldn’t argue with her when his stomach gave another loud rumble and he slid onto the bench while Rikke disappeared into the kitchens, when she returned she looked encouraged.

“Gadheriel said when you awoke you could have something more than just broth, so we added some actual chicken, vegetables and potatoes.” Rikke said lowering a steaming bowl in front of him. 

He looked at it aghast, it was blue! He knew it the elf had been poisoning him, of course, but why? He had thought that his plan was going well, so far it was he that she had turned to for comfort and safety instead of rushing off to the Thalmor embassy but perhaps she had seen the usefulness of being around them as well. Had it occurred to the young elf that she could ingratiate herself enough for their guards to drop so she could easily gather otherwise classified intel to bring back to Elenwen as a peace offering for failing her mission? It had worried him for a while but the elf, from what he had seen and heard of her in the past, was hardly one to wish ill upon others. She was not as brutal and cold as her brethren, it was why he thought his manipulations would work on her. He sighed and looked at the blue liquid in consternation, blue soup! It did smell delicious though and his mouth watered but he forced himself to pull away and look up at Rikke. “Have you been allowing her to poison me?”

Rikke sighed and sat across from him, tossing the parchment in her hand aside, “Hardly sir, I thought you would trust me after the years we’ve spent together on the battlefield.” 

He winced, it was true. Rikke had been his most trusted confidante for many years, she had never failed him or done wrong by him. In fact quite the opposite she had saved his life numerous times, and had good insight, especially for a nord. “Perhaps. I do not understand what has happened. Is it Middas?” 

Rikke shook her head, “It is Loredas, sir.”

Loredas, he had slept for four days! “Fill me in on the time I am missing then.” He ordered sitting up straighter, trying to get a grip on himself.

“Eat and I shall. It’s not poison, it saved your life.” Rikke folded her arms across her chest. “I have strict orders to make sure you eat as soon as you awake and I intend to follow them.”

“I am your General, Legate, you take orders from me, and I am ordering you to tell me what has happened.” He countered harshly, he frowned looking at the soup again. This stuff had saved his life, from what? He waited for his Legate to answer him but when he looked up again she was scowling at him her arms crossed against her chest. He sighed and grabbed the spoon not keen on eating something he did not know, especially since it was blue but it smelled so good and his most trusted Legate assured him it wasn’t poison. It had also been implied that he had been fed this before, and it obviously did not kill him. Unless of course it was that which had incapacitated him for so long but Rikke would not do that to him. He began to eat with trepidation but after the first few spoonfuls he held back no longer. It tasted good and he was starving. He paused only to say, “Tell me.”

Rikke nodded, “Well it isn’t anything malicious like you are thinking, you simply fell terribly ill. You went to sleep one night and the next morning the elf checked on you and you had a terrible fever. You were a raging inferno. The healers could do nothing for you but give you more potions that obviously were not helping. Gadheriel stripped you naked and washed you down with cold water, we moved you to a different bed. I had to take some gold out of the coffers to get some fire salts and ice wraith teeth from the apothecary. She thought that’d help get your temperature down. We had to place you in a tub to let you soak in cold water your temperature was so high. We got it lowered for a while and Gadheriel left for a bit but that night you had a seizure. Thought I was going to lose you then General.” Rikke said softly her eyes lowered to the table as he took this in stunned. “Anyway the elf left while you were still convulsing. I don’t know where she went but it took her a day to get back when she did she was a mess. Been stabbed in the shoulder by the Dark Brotherhood.”

“What?” He said sharply, how had the Pentilus Oculatus failed to kill them all yet? He sighed, this was no good. The brotherhood didn’t give up until the contract was complete.

Rikke nodded, “I know, but that is what she said. She healed herself but she was very weak. So she laid down and talked me through making the soup.”

“Soup?” he questioned, surely a potion of some sort would be better.

“Indeed, apparently the ingredients she put in it are very rare. Only found on the Summerset Isle and laden with magic. She said an alchemical process would ruin the beneficial side effects of the ingredients, and it was much better to make them into a broth. So that is what I did. Damn elf laughed at me when the soup turned blue.” Rikke explained, though there was no animosity behind the curse he noticed. “Anyway she said so long as you had the soup a few times a day and rested you’d be fine. I had to trust her to do so since I could no longer ignore my duties. The elf has been taking care of you, I checked up just in case but you seemed to be getting better and now you’re awake.” 

He was stunned into silence, so the elf hadn’t poisoned him but had saved his life. His plan wasn’t ruined then, quite the opposite. It was going exactly as planned. Well perhaps not exactly, he had not meant to get deathly ill after all but nevertheless things were proceeding well. His spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, setting the spoon aside he lifted the bowl and drank the rest. “I’ll need to send a letter to the Oculatus, this is ridiculous. As if we don’t have enough to deal with on our own.” He sighed his eyes falling on the messy side of the table, “What has been going on?”

“Well sir, you had put off sending your report to the Empire so long that I feared they’d send a replacement. I didn’t send the report obviously, but I thought perhaps if I completed some missions and sent them they’d be satisfied for a little bit that something is getting done.” She replied.

He winced, “They’ll wonder why it is only you sending in reports, and where my report is when yours could reach them easily enough. I suppose however given my report they’ll understand my illness.” 

“They were already threatening to send Bastillion.” Rikke said tossing a scroll before him. He unfurled it and scowled as he read.

“This is no threat Legate. He is coming.” He sighed, why did he have to get sick and why did he put off the report for so long? What was he going to do with the elf? He could not allow her to leave just yet and he highly doubted Bastillion would want to just throw her out. He looked at the date stamped on the correspondence and sighed. He’d be here soon, hopefully the road blocks and dragons would slow him down enough to get everything in order. Things could never be easy. 

“What’s going to happen to the elf?” Rikke echoed his thoughts, “She doesn’t want to go back to the Embassy just yet.” 

He seemed surprised at this fact, and the fact that the elf and his Legate seemed to have set aside their differences enough to trust one another. “I don’t want to send her back just yet either. She still can be of some use to us. Bastillion would not understand my plan, he is not one for delicate maneuvering. He is an Imperial but I assure you he acts like a nord, attack first, and maybe question later. If Gadheriel is going to leave she best do it now, before he gets here otherwise she’ll end up in the dungeon.” He sighed watching his plan crumble.

“Why can’t we just put her in the cell? Bastillion can’t argue with it then, he probably won’t bother at that point.” Rikke offered.

“I fear you do not know the man, he hates Thalmor. He will torture her.” He sighed, finding the thought more reprehensible than he thought he would. 

“She is the enemy. I know she saved your life but you saved hers. Listen perhaps there is a way to save your plan. Perhaps if you allowed him to put her in the dungeon, you could protest it in front of her. Make it seem like you disagree with it. Maybe sneak her down some food and supplies when Bastillion is out so she thinks you’re still on her side. Bastillion won’t stay here for long, and she’d think you were protecting her.” Rikke offered.

He frowned, “I do disagree with it, that is the issue.” He didn’t like the idea at all. It was one thing to manipulate her but to allow her to be tortured by their own, no he would not allow that at all, “Perhaps we could hide her, the Thalmor headquarters in the tower across the way is empty. We’ll put her there, it’ll have to do.” He studied his Legate, both dismayed and appreciative at her plan. It showed loyalty but at such great expense. 

The clinking of potions being set down in front of him startled him out of his pondering. He looked to his left to see Gadheriel looking well-rested but her hair wild and her eyes piercing him, he nearly snorted. “Well I am glad your plan doesn’t have me at the mercy of some cruel bastard.” She said, Rikke winced and looked away but Gadheriel didn’t seem phased by it and why would she have been, he thought, she was a Thalmor. Undoubtedly her colleagues were much worse, he doubted there was much loyalty in their ranks.

He tilted his head, “Gather your things, it would be best if you got there sooner rather than later. Unless of course you wish to leave.” 

She frowned, and placed a hand on his forehead. He nearly stepped back from her but held himself still, “Well you’re not too warm at all.” A smile filtered across her face and he was stunned by how pretty it was but it disappeared quickly. “I must get my job done. It’s the only way I can possibly return to the Embassy.”

“Will they not question you why it took so long?” He asked worried even though he had no reason to be.

“Yes but that just means I must come back with some extra juicy information I had to go out of my way to get or a powerful artifact hidden away in large dangerous ruins, I will figure something out.” She said as she pulled a comb out of her pocket and began to tame her hair. 

He frowned, she was going to leave, “When do you plan on going?”

“In a few days. You’re not out of the woods just yet General, so don’t get any ideas about going off in the cold wilds of Skyrim or getting into any serious battles.” She gave him a glare.

“I will do what the Legion commands me to do, but I fear that won’t be much with Bastillion around anyway. Gather your things then and I’ll take you to the old headquarters of your friends.” He watched as she stiffened, her lip curled but she said nothing, instead choosing to follow his orders. Something was going on there he was sure. 

Soon they were traipsing across Solitude, he looked at her as she kept her head down barely watching where she was walking, “You’ll need to come over to get the soup. I have the ingredients. I don’t trust your inept servants to do things right and Rikke will be too busy. You must continue to take it for a few more days.” She sighed.

He nodded, “Very well. I planned on it anyway. You saved my life after all.” He looked at her, studying her from the corner of his eye. This elf had saved him, out of gratitude no doubt but from what Rikke said she had been devoted to him, had done more than just make the soup. She had cared for his every need. He felt a rush of heat in his face but shook his head, it was foolish to be embarrassed of something so insignificant. “Who do you think sent the Dark Brotherhood on you?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. The Stormcloaks probably wouldn’t even think to do so. I doubt the Imperials would either. So an angry citizen of Skyrim or a conniving colleague of mine undoubtedly.” She looked away once more, “Perhaps older enemies.” She added barely above a whisper. They approached the door and he picked the lock quite easily, she raised her eye brows in shock. “I suppose this means we’ll need to upgrade our security.” She commented dryly. She stepped inside and he watched as her body seemed to relax. The tension melting out of it. “A piece of home at least.” 

“I will return when I am able. Do not leave. I will explain later.” He said firmly as she opened her mouth to protest.

“We shall see. I do not intend to be your prisoner for long General. So whatever your master plan is for me you better hurry along.” She sneered and slammed the door in his face.

He sighed, of course she had overheard everything Rikke had said. Perhaps that angle was destroyed but there was still a chance he could win over her allegiance in the end, he was not one to give up. The Stormcloaks had broken her down but he was going to be the one that built her back up. He would come back later, perhaps they could have a proper talk about everything that had happened but he couldn’t risk it now, he sighed. It was much too early for this, and his bones were still so tired. He began the trek back to Castle Dour and scowled as he saw Bastillion’s entourage walking through the large front gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there wasn't much Tullius and Gadheriel interaction done, but next chapter will have the two interacting much more. Thank you <3


	4. Wine and Nightmares, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few lines that come from the game in this chapter. Though they've been modified. 
> 
> Also if you'd prefer shorter chapters let me know. I just write until I feel it's a good point to cut it off.

  
General Bastillion stood tall and proud within Castle Dour, he wasn’t nearly as old as Tullius by any means, in fact he was quite young for a General having made his way swiftly through their ranks during the Great War where they had lost thousands of men a day. His grey eyes and black hair were in stark contrast to Tullius’s own dark eyes and grey hair, he even stood nearly a head taller than the old General. Tullius wasn’t fond of the man or his methods but he understood the necessities of war more than most, and his loyalty to the Empire was not something anyone dared to question. Tullius knew the man to be ruthless, loyal, blunt and over-zealous, but he couldn’t argue the results, it just happened to be unfortunate for those who got caught in the cross fire, or in Bastillion’s own words, “Collateral Damage.” Perhaps the younger man could make leeway in this infernal Civil War where he had as of yet to make much of a difference. 

“So tell me Tullius what is it with these nord rebels? Empire not good enough for them now?” Bastillion’s gruff voice pulled him from his musings and he ran a hand over his face. 

“They resent the elves, I doubt we would be in this conflict if the Thalmor didn’t exist. They were outraged the Empire gave up so easily, they believe we should have fought until every last soldier lay dead on the battlefield. Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, has rallied people behind his cause to liberate Skyrim from the Empire. He is using the ban on Talos worship to gather sympathy and support. All he really wants is the throne, he had no other reason to kill Torygg.” He explained pointing out Windhelm to the young General. 

“The power hungry often fall on their own swords, their hubris knows no bounds.” Bastillion sighed, “I am surprised you haven’t shut their little operation down by now.” 

“It looks easy enough from the outside, they’re just farmers and merchants after all hardly trained soldiers but they know Skyrim like the back of their hand. This land is brutal and in response its people have had to become resilient and strong. Frankly, I do not know where to begin and I am reticent on waiting for them to make a move.” 

“Bah, all we need is a few good nords on our side. I’ve met Hadvar and Rikke, they’re good soldiers but we need more. Ones with a greater understanding of how Skyrim works. Tell me of the cities.” Bastillion waved a hand at the map. 

Tullius gave a short nod, “Very well, Markarth is rich with mines, we get a lot of revenue and ore from there. Falkreath is our land route into Skyrim, Solitude of course is our port.” For the next hour they discussed the country, its people and customs. He felt exhausted by the time Bastillion’s curiosity dried up, perhaps the elf was right and he wasn’t as fully recovered as he had originally felt. 

“First things first, I have to see what I am working with. I’ll want to review the performance of every soldier in the Legion stationed in Skyrim. I’ll start here then visit the camps across the country side. Need to make sure they are up to par and if there are any stars in the bunch.” Bastillion sighed

“Ah, you have orders to take over then I presume?” Tullius stiffened, his lips pursed. He had just been sent here, how could they possibly expect results after only a few months?

“The Emperor believes you could use some assistance, ah come on don’t look at me like that old man it isn’t like that. Surely you remember that time you and I charged into that Dominion camp back in Cyrodil together!” 

“As I recall you were the one that charged in, I followed in the hope of talking some strategy into you. Unfortunately the elves caught up to you first.” He answered dryly. He remembered that battle well, it had been one of the most brutal and miserable he had been in during the Great War. It was one he would never forget, they had lost so many men that day because of Bastillion’s impatience.

“We won though, that is what matters.” 

“We could have won without sacrificing hundreds of our men! If you think you are going to come here and throw these soldiers lives away to pursue your glory or death lifestyle you are wrong!” Tullius snapped, anger coursed through him as he glared at the man looking at him bemused.

“This is war Tullius, people die. It is part of the job, perhaps that is why you can’t seem to end the conflict. You’re too scared to risk anything. You don’t get something for nothing you know.” Bastillion said calmly.

“You know you may actually have a chance at winning, you think an awfully lot like Ulfric Stormcloak.” Tullius studied him.

“It matters not, only thing that matters is this damn war ends.” Bastillion reached into his bag and pulled out a tightly bound scroll, “Your orders from the Imperial City.” 

He snatched them from Bastillion hastily, he unfurled it with great trepidation and slowly read through it. His heart plummeted, they were removing him from active service temporarily. At least they were not recalling him to the City, just giving him leave for a few weeks while he recovered. “I’m to stay in Solitude in case you need any advice or assistance I see.” He mentioned quietly, how could they do this? Had he not devoted himself faithfully to the Empire for the last forty years? He was their best strategist, he was a well-decorated war hero with a record of winning battles consistently and yet he was told to take a time out. He gritted his teeth but if the Empire thought Bastillion could do better than so be it, in the end that is all that mattered. Not his pride or ego but the Empire and the people of Skyrim. The sooner this conflict was over the better for everyone. He sighed releasing the tension inside, “Very well. What do you need?”

“For now nothing, as I said I am going to make my rounds perhaps it’d be best once I leave to stay here in case there’s any important correspondence.” Bastillion shrugged, the younger man turned to the servant standing quietly in the corner, “Lead me to my quarters if you would please.”

“Of course sir, just this way…” 

Tullius groaned, great he was a glorified secretary now, but if those were his orders there wasn’t much he could do. He would fulfill them just the same as if he was ordered to charge into Windhelm that very second. Perhaps it was for the best, after everything that had happened the last week maybe he wasn’t at his best anymore. He was getting older and weaker while his enemies grew younger and stronger. He sighed as he sat behind his desk and began to catch up on paperwork, reports and old missives that had been neglected in his sickness, trying to push the gnawing feeling of incompetence that ate at him far away.

* * *

  
She touched everything in her new home, the place was obviously architecturally nordic but there were touches of Alinor all around her and she reveled in it. Her hands gripped the soft glazed ceramic bowl feeling the contours of the etchings and the smooth underbelly, her eyes drank in every detail of this simple bowl. She couldn’t explain why such a simple object caused her immense comfort but it did. Her hands stroked over the intricate carvings on the mirror smiling at the handiwork that must have taken the elven artist months to finish. She buried her face in the silk curtains, the liquid coolness of the fabric caressed her face. She hadn’t realized how much she missed home until then, her heart ached with the thought of green rolling hills scattered with flowering trees and the sweet scent of berries in the air. Her fingers stroked the spine of books resting on the hand made and carved bookcase, little pieces that made up her entire life, but it was all so far away. She had no idea when, if ever, she’d get to go home again, perhaps this would be the closest she would get to the Summerset Isles for the rest of her years, the thought filled her with a deep melancholy. She had been surrounded by mankind and their creations so long that she had nearly forgotten what her life was like before. Staring at the crystal decorations and beaded cushions she wondered why it had all been left behind when they had moved to the Embassy. Laziness maybe, or perhaps they had thought the move was only temporary. She didn’t care either way, she was just grateful she could be surrounded by some form of sanity again. 

Every piece of home was a reminder of what she was, where she came from, who she should be but it was also a reflection of her flaws and imperfections. Could she really see herself in an Alinor mansion the way she was now? She sighed and shook her head, of course not how could she possibly after everything that had happened? Everything she had done? Was it too late to return to her roots? She didn’t feel the same as she had before, somewhere out in the wilds of eastern Skyrim she had changed, something inside had snapped. She had felt adrift since, throwing her anchor in the safest waters she could find too afraid to venture out to find her way back home. _“Coward.”_ The voice in her head accused, it was true, how could she deny it when she was hiding from everyone and everything alone in a tower in Solitude while her own people were only a few miles outside of the city? A burning sensation crept from her chest up her throat, she swallowed it back but the mass of black, writhing, loathing consumed her. The fear of Elenwen was justified but it was not just that, she had had many plans in the last week yet had acted on none. Instead she made excuse after excuse, it was not the fear of Elenwen that stopped her but the fear of men. Her lip curled in a sneer, an elf frightened of men. It was unheard of, disgraceful, shameful! What kind of elf was she? What kind of Thalmor was she? She let go of the glass goblet sparkling in her hand too tempted to destroy it in her self-loathing. 

Her mind groped for reasons and justifications, the memories of her captivity haunted her still. Every night she slept was just another nightmare, a way for her mind to force her to relive the humiliation and pain, and every day she spent too frightened to wander too far from her rescuer told the truth of the matter. Stuck between shame and fear she couldn’t see a way out, maybe she didn’t want to though, perhaps it was easier to wallow in denial than face the facts and move forward. Her hands ran along the marble counter tops, traces of a happier more carefree time tugging at her mind as her eyes spotted sparkling bottles of wine. She slipped one off the wine rack, a sweet berry blend not one of the finest in Summerset but not bad either. It was mid-range, respectable for the Middle class home. The crystal goblet was in one piece where she had left it thankfully. She plopped herself in the over-stuffed armchair before the fireplace and cast a simple fireball at the cold logs in the hearth. She smiled as a fire crackled to life and she poured herself some wine. She sipped long and slow savoring every ounce in her mouth before swallowing. Her eyes closed and she rested her head back, picturing the Isles in spring with a soft breeze. It didn’t take long for her muscles to relax and the tension nearly left her body, unfortunately the reprieve would not last long. 

A sharp and persistent knock at the door made her jump in her seat, her heart thudded in her chest. She sighed in annoyance as she approached the door, she gathered fire in her palm with one hand as the other cracked open the door just enough to see. A knot of anxiety unwound at the sight of General Tullius, exasperated at her own reaction she swung the door open and shook the flames from her finger tips. She turned sharply away, choosing to sink in to her chair once more rather than greet her guest. She heard the door snap close, “Well if it isn’t the man with a plan.” She sneered as she poured some more wine into her goblet, trying her best to ignore the older man who sunk into the other chair next to her. 

He raised an eyebrow, “I see you haven’t wasted anytime getting comfortable.”

“Ah, there is no shame, High Elves are actually very accommodating. Hospitality is a virtue, especially when one wishes to show off how much better they are than the person depending on their kindness.” A smile betrayed her as it slid onto her face. The social rules of Alinor were pounded into their heads from such a young age. 

“That is……” The General trailed off searching for the least non-offensive adjective possible but seeming to fail. She snorted as the warmth in her chest rose with each sip of wine. “Wouldn’t it be better to honestly care about one another?”

“Perhaps, but that would not spurn us on to greater heights, complacency does not breed motivation.” Her eyes shifted to him studying his tired face but his eyes held confusion, “Perfection General, surely you know High Elven lore. We must push ourselves forward even if that means we use our brethren as rungs in a ladder.”

“Doesn’t that ever wear on you?” The General asked quietly.

“Hm, I suppose in a way it wears on everyone. Mankind does the same, your kind is so power-hungry. In men’s short-sighted ignorance they never stopped to consider that their lust for power is brought on by insecurity fueled by weakness; you kill each other for dominance as if other weak creatures were the threat, steadfastly ignoring the predator that watches in the wings for the chance to taste the victors meatier bones.” She gulped down the last of the goblet and poured another, sinking deeper into the chair. 

“I think you’ve had too much.” The General said amused, a small smile danced on his thin lips. It made him look years younger, it saddened her that he didn’t smile all that often.

“Perhaps but it doesn’t make it any less true. So what’re you doing here man with the plan, I highly doubt you came to discuss High Elven culture and etiquette.” She smiled at him over the brim of her glass wondering if he would own up to it. Not that she cared per se but it would be interesting to see him so uncomfortable for once when he was always so sure of himself. She could admit after overhearing their plans for her it didn’t take much to connect the dots. It had strangely hurt her feelings and disappointed her, she very nearly snorted at the thought. What kind of elf cared for the thoughts of men?! Honestly she was losing the plot, losing the very ground beneath her feet. 

“Indeed.” He spoke after a long silence, “Simply have no place else to go. Bastillion has taken over the operation here in Skyrim, and I am told to be his servant boy, hustling here and there if he so much as needs his ass wiped.” 

His body was all tension and steaming anger, a side she had only had a glance at before but she could see the resignation in the lines of his face. She filled another goblet and slid it over to him, “Have some wine, straight from the Summerset Isles.” She took a gulp of her own drink. He looked as if he was going to reject her offer but then his hand came down and he took a large swig of it. She snorted, “It is not ale General. You must sip it to truly appreciate everything it has to offer. Like this.” She demonstrated her slow dainty sips, coating the tongue, and tilting her head back to let it drip down her throat. 

She watched as he followed her instructions, his face lighting up in pleasant surprise, she snorted as he said, “Not bad, almost beats out the finest Cyrodil fair.”

“So you’re no longer in charge in Skyrim.” She noted staring into the fire once more, a heavy weight settled on her chest, “I suppose this disrupts your nefarious plans for me.” 

All was silent for a while before a heaved sigh escaped the man across from her, “It does. Though nefarious is a bit much, I simply wished for an ally.” He shrugged.

“Against my own people.” She snorted, “I would not betray the Thalmor, General, not even for a man who saved my life.”

“You’re still loyal to them, after everything?” He asked.

“After what? They have hardly done anything to me, have they? It was your kind that—” She stopped suddenly and scowled at the fire and took a page from the General’s book as she chugged the rest of the wine in her glass and refilled it once again. It burned enough that any thoughts that arose were lost in the interim. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding them?” He asked flippantly.

She glared at him and scoffed, “This coming from a man wearing his General uniform even though he is now no more than a servant.” 

“Point made.” She could feel his eyes on her but she could not meet them, he was right after all, she had been avoiding her own people in favor of the imperials. She sighed as a hot wave of shame washed over her again, she was passively betraying them but what else could she do? The voices in her head immediately chimed in much to her annoyance, go back to work, do your job, go see Elenwen….so many options. Yet here she sat having wine with the recently demoted General of the Imperial army. 

She had let those men destroy her and look what had become of her. “Why did you save me? By all rights we are enemies.”

“I hoped in saving you I might use you.” He answered simply and honestly. She turned to look at him sharply but found no resentment there as she had expected to feel. It was war and she was an enemy, she would have done the same. In fact that was one of her many plans and excuses—to gain allies and perhaps divulge crucial information pertaining the Imperials to her superiors to buy her way back into Elenwen’s favor.

“We’re even now.” She said softly, an empty hollowness began to creep in that even the warm fire and burning wine could not stave off.

“Yes, Rikke told me how you dragged me back from the brink of death and nursed me back to health.” She smirked as the proud man’s face tinged with pink. “Thank you.”

She startled up as she remembered his treatment, “Damn it, I forgot to make more soup.” She rose a bit wobbly and light headed. It had been a long time since she had been tipsy, inebriation was frowned upon in civilized elven society, but she was not among her fellows and when she wasn’t obviously she could not be trusted to retain her elven virtues much to her own dismay. She grabbed the kettle and filled it with water before setting it over the fire. In a basket she gathered the ingredients and returned to the fire. She lowered the chicken meat in and sliced the vegetables and potatoes before dumping them in alongside the meat. She waited for it to boil.

“It really is just chicken soup.” He said sounding surprised.

“What did you think it was? Fancy magical poison?” She rolled her eyes, “Of course the base of it is soup. It helps the magical properties in the plants stay intact and also takes care of the need to eat as well.” She slowly sprinkled the seeds in as the kettle was brought to a soft roiling boil. She smirked as the General looked shocked as the soup turned from its usual golden color to one of dark translucent blue. “You’d think it’d turn orange since the seeds are red, magic does interesting things.” They hadn’t had much of a chance to talk, too much had gone on since he had saved her. She wasn’t expecting to feel such ease with him but perhaps the circumstances had built some form of bridge where two opposing forces could meet without devastation being wrought upon the world.

He was strangely quiet but she filled in the silence by explaining the ingredients and their properties. She knew he probably wouldn’t understand but it was her duty as a Thalmor to educate when she could so she would. Perhaps that would redeem her somehow. Finally the soup was done and she ladled it into a bowl, and handed it to the general after plopping a few ice cubes in it. He ate in silence and she took the time to rest her hand on his forehead. He was warm but she could not tell if it was from a lingering fever, alcohol or the fire. “How do you feel?”

“Tired, my body aches, warm. Not as terribly as before though.” He said between mouthfuls. She watched appalled as he ravenously devoured the soup like a wild animal who hadn’t been fed in days. 

“Do humans not have table manners?” She folded her arms across her chest and quite literally looked down her nose at him.

“Oh the nobles do, the rest of us have lives.” He answered calmly.

Her eyes turned to slits, “This is why your people are so insignificant in the long run, no control or discipline.”

“Yes mankind’s greatest downfall has always been the lack of dining etiquette.” The General said dryly.

She glared at him, “You are insufferable.” She plopped back down on her chair, “You may have one more bowl if you wish. You must not indulge too much with the magical ingredients in there it could do you harm. If you were a mer it’d be easier but since your body is not so well attuned to magic…” She shook her head, she had seen magical overdose once before and it was not a pretty sight.

“Mmm, you cook well, I am surprised some elf hasn’t married you yet.” The General commented. Little did he know he had waded into dangerous waters with a single off-handed comment that cut her to the very core.

She fumed, gritting her teeth as outrage coursed through her veins. Was that all she was good for now? “I am no domesticated house wife!” She hissed, “I am an Agent of the Thalmor Embassy! I will have you know that I once commanded thousands in the war, I annihilated hundreds of Imperial Battalions! I sacked dozens of cities and took them for the glory of the Aldmeri Dominion! I was respected by enemy and ally alike, and now look at me! Look at what I have become! Thought of as nothing more than a damn nurse maid and eligible house wife!” Her piercing shouts echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Fury burned within her, the gall of this man sitting in front of her. As if he knew—had any idea—what she was capable of, but how could he possibly when all she had been was a mess? She was acting no better than a sniveling coward, a scared civilian far beneath her station. She had seen nordic housewives with more courage than her at the moment. She sneered as she stormed into the kitchen and snatched another bottle of wine off the rack. She didn’t bother pouring it into a glass, instead she sipped straight from the bottle. 

He sat stunned at her response to his flippant comment. He was not surprised by what she had said nor her reaction but merely the timing. Even through his haze of sickness the first few days he had seen her vacillate between sorrow, fear and anger when she wasn’t outright pretending it never happened. He had been watching her when she thought she was alone or he asleep, he had heard her cries in the night as nightmares had taken over her, had seen her pacing back and forth in anxiety her brow furrowed in deep thought. It was only a matter of time before it erupted, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. He sighed, when he signed up for the Legion he never imagined he’d be playing counselor to his own men let alone an elf but where the tide of time brings you there you are. He followed her into the kitchen to find her chugging from a bottle of wine, and frowned. It would not do her any good to find comfort in drunkenness. 

She turned to him with such loathing in her eyes that he almost stepped back, instead she merely slammed the bottle down, sloshing some of the wine over the pristine marble counters. She could not control the raging inferno inside her chest, her mind screaming at her a million things at once. Her hands shook with barely suppressed rage and she breathed heavily, gasping for air. He stood still, “What is it you have become then?” He asked quietly.

A bitter laugh almost overtook her but she settled for a sneer instead, “Nothing. I have become nothing! What they did to me—What they have done to me—I am disgusting, pathetic, disgraceful! Good for absolutely nothing! They destroyed my life! They have taken everything from me! EVERYTHING.” She shrieked a mad glint in her shining bright against the grotesque sneer on her lips. “I was sought after! My family tree goes back millenia’s! I was a trusted and respected member of the Thalmor! I had a future! Now I will never see home again! Don’t you get it?!” She glared at him breathing heavily, her pulse pounding in her ears. She took another swig of the wine, “I am nothing in the eyes of my people now. They contaminated me, damaged me beyond repair. I will be thrown out like the trash I am! And for what? So your kind could have their entertainment for a few days? That is the hypocrisy of men! Whining and carrying on about how evil the Thalmor are, how horrible we treat you, but we have never—NOT ONCE—committed such revolting, appalling, horrid acts on any man. And you say your kind don’t need us when all of you are nothing more than savage, depraved sick beasts!,” She leaned forward, a dangerous look on her face.

“They took turns with me you know, one after another climbing on top of me while the others laughed and waited their turn. Do you know what one of them said? ‘You’ll remember me, won’t you sweetheart?’ Oh I remember, I remember every second! I’ll make sure to never forget—as if I could forget the pain and humiliation they had put me through!” She seethed gulping in air before glaring at the gaping General again, “You do know what happens to sick dogs don’t you General? They get put down, and I am going to make sure that is exactly what happens. I tried being nice to you people, I have shown men compassion! Have I not helped your people? Have I not done the most I could possibly do to save them from the worst of the Thalmor? I fell out of favor saving a worthless, illiterate nord whose very existence is completely insignificant and useless! And what has come of it, hmm? TELL ME WHAT HAS COME OF IT GENERAL?! I paid for the kindness I showed men, I paid every penny and more! Your kind has only proven our point! That you do not deserve to live, but I meddled anyway—I tried to save them—and I got exactly what I deserved for it! I should have known better, I DID know better! It was my own damn fault for ever giving a shit about mens pitiful, useless existence! I got what I had coming!!” She gasped for air, her chest tightening and tears pooling in her eyes. She refused to give into despair when she could cling to the white-hot fury coursing through her like wildfire.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.” The General said firmly, “You can’t possibly, truly, think it is your fault. How can you blame yourself for what those reprehensible, vile men did to you?”

“And why can’t I?! It was my own damn fault for being captured in the first place! I had let myself go soft! I was caught with my guard down, utterly unprepared! If I wasn’t so incompetent and weak they never would have had a chance! It was completely my own damn fault! I couldn’t even fight off a bunch of farmers pretending to play soldier! As if that wasn’t bad enough on it’s own I wasn’t even capable of freeing myself! It’s nearly laughable how absolutely pathetic it is. I do not belong in the Thalmor anymore if I can’t even defend myself against untrained barbarians! You should have heard how proud they were of their handiwork, having a soldier of the dominion at their mercy, getting pay back for all the wrong the Thalmor had done them. How I deserved to suffer for it. Yet man will rail against the idea that they should be held responsible for crimes their brethren committed but I suppose if I held my breath in anticipation of any sign of intelligence coming from your kind I’d suffocate.” She hissed, her arms folding against her chest.

“They made a choice that day to cause suffering to someone, it is not your fault that you happened to cross their paths. Blaming yourself only takes the blame off them. And they deserve every ounce of blame, they should get away with none of it, not in this life or the next.” His eyes were fierce and livid, he took a step forward and much to both of their surprise she stepped back. His face turned from angry to grim, “I am not them Gadheriel. I would not do what they have done to you, surely you know that by now.”

Her face twisted and she gave a cold, cruel laugh, “Spare me your self-serving lies General, if you wish to comfort yourself with your denial than so be it but do me the favor of not lying to my face. You really shouldn’t give yourself that much credit, but I suppose everyone painting you as some sort of war hero has gone to your head after all. You’re no better than they were, they used me and so did you, or did you forget I had overheard your little plan with dear Rikke? Let’s face it you wouldn’t have saved me at all if you didn’t think you could use me. You’d have left me out there to die just the same. How _noble_ and _honorable_ of you General, such a _gentlemen_. Don’t worry though, I don’t blame you. After all you can hardly help being a man, it’s in your genetics and breeding. A dog can not help acting like a dog even if it wishes to.” She smiled at him coldly. 

He could say nothing to that at first, stunned by what she thought of him, “Maybe I would have back then, but not now, I know you now—”

“Know me?!” She laughed, “Know me? General you do not know me, we have barely had a chance to talk in the entire one week we’ve known each other. Let’s not act like we’re the best of friends. You know nothing of me, nothing! Tell me General, since you know me so well, what were my parents names? Where did I grow up? What is my favorite piece of literature? When and how did I join the Thalmor? What is my favorite color? What foods make me ill?” She sneered at him. “Don’t know any of that, do you? So please, don’t embarrass yourself. You know me no better than any other person walking by me in the street.”

He scowled at her, “I may not know the answers to those trivial questions but they are not who you are! I don’t know anything about you but I have seen glimpses of who you are. I watched you comfort Roggvir’s niece, seen you give something so obviously precious to you to an insignificant human child. I have heard reports from people you have helped—you wouldn’t even take compensation because it meant they wouldn’t be able to eat that night or buy their children new shoes. One of my men told me of a woman you helped, unlike the others though you took her payment and then promptly turned around and paid the Bards’ college money to put her children through tutoring. The one time you accepted gold you spent it ensuring an education for two human children, then you wish to sit there and convince me you hate mankind.”

“That was long before I saw the truth and you know it! I told you I tried my best for you people! I already admitted that I had done everything I could to help rehabilitate your kind to a more civilized and intelligent bunch. Of course it was only after what those stormcloaks did I truly noticed I was fighting a losing battle, you people can’t be rehabilitated not when it’s in your blood. You’re all too pleased and eager to sit in your shit with a self-righteous attitude!” She spat venomously.

“And what you’ve done for me?” He questioned softly, “You could have let me perish instead you nursed me back to health. Rikke told me everything you know. You can not deny what you have done for me, the significance in your actions has not been lost on me. You hide yourself away from the world in your fear and yet when my life was endangered you didn’t think twice about your own safety or well-being. You rushed out into the world you are so terrified of now to get me the medicine I needed to survive. You rushed into the hostile wilds of the reach on horseback to get to a city full of stormcloak sympathizers and supporters and back again to give me a chance to survive. You won’t even do that for yourself Gadheriel, but you did it for me.” 

She glared at him, her voice had lowered an octave or two but the fury and pain still pounded through her with every beat of her heart. “I had a duty General. Altmer’s believe in repaying debts owed to them, you saved my life—even if only for your own benefit—and I saved your life, for my own benefit. Like I said before, fair and square, we’re even now.” 

He sighed and shook his head, exasperation written clearly in his eyes, “You honestly expect me to believe it was duty alone that made you go to such lengths? When you struggle to leave the Castle every morning to simply walk the streets of Solitude?”

Her lip curled and her hands trembled, “What else would it be? I don’t know you, and I certainly do not care for you.”

“You have a duty to the Thalmor that you have been forsaking, surely your duty to your own kind is far more important than your duty to a man and yet you hid away until I was threatened. And tell me, Gadheriel,” He stepped closer still, she could smell old parchment and mint, “was it duty that caused you to collapse into my arms and cling to me your first day in the Castle? Did your duty include sobbing as I held you? Did duty impel you to fall asleep in my arms?” His voice was soft and quiet as if he knew he was walking on extremely thin ice and any minor disturbance could possibly plunge him into the churning, freezing depths below.

She could not think, only react, as her hand flew out fast and furious. It collided with the General’s cheek swift and hard, the sharp thwacking noise of the slap echoed in the silence that had temporarily settled over the two. “Don’t you dare—Don’t you ever!” She screamed, her hands shook as she slammed the bottle of wine down violently on the marble counter top with all her force. It exploded into hundreds of pieces showering them in bits of broken glass. “You want to know the truth General? DO YOU? Fine! Yes, General, you’re right it wasn’t duty to you that made me cling to you like a baby. I was so pathetic, damaged, broken that it was with you alone that I felt safe, comforted! You had saved my life, you were all that I had to cling to anymore. Absolutely, appallingly pathetic that I clung to a man as if he could save me from myself. You can’t even save your own kind from a bunch of angry farmers and blacksmiths throwing a temper tantrum!” She shrieked as if possessed, “I have never—in all my years—reached such a low in my life, and you stand there and throw it back in my face. Whatever it was to you, it was my rock bottom! How you don’t seem to understand such a simple concept is beyond me, but men will continue to surprise me with how utterly stupid they can be. Perhaps I should be more clear with you, so you can get it through that thick skull of yours.” She stepped forward, her hands clenching into fists.

“I do not need you. I do not need you to comfort me. I do not need you to keep me safe. I do not need you to keep me company. I do not need you for absolutely anything! Do you get it now? I do not need you! I don’t need you or any other poor excuse for a living being such as man for anything. Do you not see this?!” Her hands shot out grabbing another crystal goblet resting on the counter, “This is where I come from, this is what I am!” She chucked the crystal goblet at his feet, shattering it all over the floor. She grabbed the ceramic bowl she had admired earlier and chucked it across the room. It flew into a glass cabinet and the piercing noise of breaking glass echoed in the room, “Not from the lands of outhouses, manure, filth, and illiterate, deformed, defective, useless men who take their sisters as their wives!” Her body burned as an inferno of fury raged inside of her. Her hands still grabbing everything within reach and whipping them in the general direction of Tullius. She was most satisfied when he had to dodge quite a few flying plates and glasses. “Your kind is so utterly insignificant and purposeless that you are of no use to me, do you get it now?!” 

She smiled maliciously at the anger in the General’s eyes. “If we are not of use to you than who will you blame next? Who will be your scapegoat so you never have to deal with your actual feelings again? I understand perfectly Gadheriel, you do need us and you hate yourself for it, don’t you? You hate yourself so much for it that it is unbearable so you convince yourself of the opposite. You can’t live with yourself, a mighty Thalmor, who is terrified of mankind yet completely dependent on one for survival.”

Her hand struck out again but the General grabbed her wrist out of the air and tightened his grip, she stiffened as he stepped forward and she spat out, “That isn’t true, you liar! I don’t need you! I can take care of myself!” 

He stepped forward again even as she tried to pull away. She backed up as much as she could until the small of her back hit the edge of the counter behind her. His hands gripped her upper arms in a tight hold and she kicked out but he merely pressed his body against hers so she could not land a single blow. Her heart raced, fear trickling into the steady stream of rage pumping through her. He merely hissed in her face, “You can deny it all you want but I think we both know it’s the truth. Question is what’re you going to do about it? If I had to guess I’d say you’ll hide out here for as long as you possibly can like a coward, wasting your life away in self-pity and hatred of all those who aren’t you. Is that what you want?” He said shaking her a little.

She winced, his grip was painfully tight, he had her pinned to the back of the counter hard enough that it was cutting into her. “Let go of me.” She snarled still trying to pull away, “Get off!” She tried to wriggle out from beneath him but he tightened his hold and she hissed in pain. She could feel his body heat, his heavy weight pinning her, the smell of his breath laced with alcohol against her face. Her heart began to beat fast, and her breathing hitched, the rage was waning and ebbing, giving rise to fear. “Get off of me! Please, let me go!” Memories of those terrible nights collided with his scent and face mixing together, making her nauseas. She could feel the prickle in her hands as the lightning gathered at her fingertips, just as she let the lightning bolt loose she looked into his eyes and saw the look of dawning realization and shock at what he was doing. The bolt hit him square in the chest and sent him flying backward through the air. He crashed onto the floor and skidded to a halt in the middle of the walkway between the kitchen and living area. 

Her hands shook as she remained where she was standing, her hands lit up and tingling with gathered magic raised defensively in front of her ready to strike if he came near her again. He sat up and looked at her, his face softening, “Gadheriel, I didn’t mean you harm, I would never—”

“Get out. JUST GET OUT!” She screamed, some of the anger returning but it was anger brought about by fear. He rose and looked like he was about to argue, unsure of whether he should stay to explain or leave but she did not care to hear him. She sent another bolt of lightning and he jumped out of the way, “Get out!” She yelled again.

He nodded sharply without a word and turned to leave, she watched him disappear from the kitchen and followed after him. When he opened the door and turned to look at her she stiffened, “Don’t ever come back.” Something shifted in his eyes, she could not tell what, but she was past caring. He nodded again and moments later the door snapped closed. He was gone. 

She walked numbly into the kitchen again, her eyes raking over the mess. Broken glass and pottery lay strewn all across the floors and counters. Glass doors and cabinets were destroyed and there was a lake of wine on the floor. Her hands still trembled as she pulled another bottle of wine from the rack. She felt wobbly, unsteady on her feet not sure if it was caused by the wild emotions of the night or the alcohol. She didn’t much care to analyze it, instead she found a clear spot and slid to the floor, her back resting against the marble island in the middle of the large kitchen. She breathed in and out deeply trying to calm her fraying nerves and steady her wild emotions but it just made her feel hollow. She took a sip of the wine and closed her eyes against the tears pooling there. She felt so torn, she knew he was right, she knew that she resented him for making her feel safe, she hated needing him. Needing anyone. But she hated herself most of all. The feeling of him pinning her to the counter, of his hands holding her tightly made her shudder. The scent that had normally comforted her had been morphed into one of fear. She blinked rapidly, trying to contain the tears but they fell anyway. She just took another sip of wine and closed her eyes again. She couldn’t move, someone else had control of her body and was far too close. Pinning her down, their weight on top of her. His angry eyes glaring down at her. The alcohol on his breath that filled her nostrils. 

Her lips parted and trembled as more tears flowed, she could hear them laughing and then a soft whisper in her ear, “You’ll remember me, won’t you sweetheart?” It was the General’s voice. She gasped, her stomach protesting she turned to her side quickly and got on her knees before retching all over the floor. She sat back once more, washing her mouth out with more wine. She shivered in the empty tower, noting how very alone she was now with nothing but her memories to keep her company. The tears she had held inside of herself finally fell as she tried her best to drink it all away; in that moment all she wished for were strong arms around her, holding her tight against a warm body that smelled of old parchment and mint. She could not explain even to herself why she felt so drawn to him, why she felt so safe with him. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her but it had been too much in the moment, too many memories circling her like she was the prey. She hated how much she needed him, hated that she wanted him even now but she hated herself the most. She always ruined everything good in her life, why would this be any different? Her body was numb and her eyes were heavy, the relief of unconsciousness whispered sweetly in her ear and she let it sweep her away into the welcoming darkness.

When she awoke the next morning her pulse was pounding a dull and painful rhythm against her skull, every minor movement seemed to slosh her brain around causing even more excruciating pain. Her stomach rebelled at the sight of the vomit on the floor, the stench invading her nostrils until she gagged and threw up. She was thankful there were no windows in the kitchen, even the rays coming in from the living area pierced her eyes like knives. Her body ached terribly from falling asleep sitting upright against the marble island. Her mind was fuzzy and even though she had slept she still felt utterly exhausted. She shifted and realized she was sitting in some cool liquid but when she looked down it was not water. She nearly threw up again as she realized she had pissed herself in her sleep and sat in it for hours. She crawled away, gagging at how her pants clung to her. She reached up and grabbed the marble counter, bracing herself as she pulled herself off the floor. She leaned heavily against the counter as her head split in two with the movement. She sighed and looked around slowly as the dizziness passed. Broken glass, vomit, and piss spread across the kitchen. She groaned at the mess she had caused. She wanted nothing more than to take a long hot bath but she knew she wouldn’t be able to relax knowing such a mess awaited her. 

She raised her hand and took a deep breath, her magic twisted the air around her until it fell into a soft breeze. She swept it around the kitchen until the broken glass and other various objects were floating in the air above the garbage she lowered her hand and winced as the glass crashed into the bin. She stared at the vomit and piss before realizing no magic was going to help her. She searched the tower for towels and extra linens and began the disgusting job of mopping it up. She gagged at the smell and the bits of vomit that clung to the floor, nearly adding another belly full to the already abused floor. She hastily threw the soaked linen in the bin and heated up some water from the well in the basement and scrubbed. Finally she was done, she stepped out of her clothes and threw them in the bin as well, she gathered up the water she’d need and heated it in the ceramic tub. She closed her eyes in bliss as she stepped in the soothing warm water, reaching for the healing potion she nabbed from a cupboard and sipped it slowly. The events of the previous night replayed in her mind, she couldn’t believe the destruction she had caused without the use of magic. It would be impressive if it wasn’t so shameful. Men acted like that not elves. Irritated she slapped the water, she could not deny the General’s sharp words any longer. They echoed in her mind and cut into her with every syllable. He was right of course, she was being a coward and wallowing in pity no matter how she tried to justify it. 

She certainly wasn’t acting like a superiorly bred mer, no her actions matched those of mankind. She knew the only path to redemption was returning to her duties, and behaving like a true Altmer. If she truly believed in the Thalmor mission she would need to live by example and not like a hypocrite. She pulled her knees to her chest and sighed, it would be easier for her to just ignore it all, abandon everything and live her life out in self-loathing and pity but when she died how could she look anyone in the eyes? How could she face her parents then? After what she had done could she abandon their deaths to live a shameful life even by nordic standards? What kind of repayment was that? She bit her lip against the ache in her chest when she thought of her parents’ faces. Divines, what she wouldn’t do to see them again. To be in her father’s arms with her mother fussing over her. She could see it now, he’d wrap his arms around her and they would make little jokes while her mother cleaned up and made comments about how dirty and unfit for habitation the tower was. She missed them terribly. If nothing else she had to try to live if only for her parents’ sake. By the time the water had cooled she was scrubbed clean and relaxed, the potion and bath had vanished most of her hangover. She gathered flames in her hands and held it a few inches away from her body letting the heat dry her. 

She searched the tower for clothes that fit her until finally she found a wardrobe that had obviously been a females. She pulled the robe over her head and combed through her long hair. She stepped in front of the mirror and breathed in sharply at the Thalmor looking back at her. It felt like forever since she wore her Thalmor robes, she missed the soft linen, the quiet gold and black and the sweet lure of the destruction magic that hummed through its threads. Her long silver hair was braided and the front half pulled back, she studied her reflection. Besides the resignation in her eyes she looked just like any other Thalmor, she straightened her back and tilted her head up, a smile slowly growing on her face. A rush of pride flooded her, she hadn’t felt much like herself since her captivity but wearing her uniform made her feel a bit more in place than before. The disparaging voice in her head tried to convince her that she didn’t belong in the uniform anymore, that she wasn’t deserving of it but she pushed it down, she was only worthy of it so long as she upheld the virtues of the Thalmor and she was determined to do just that no matter how difficult or painful it was. She couldn’t allow mere men to destroy her, she was better than that; it had only taken a fierce Imperial confronting her with the hard truth to get her to see that but nonetheless she saw it now. 

She wondered if she had hurt him with the lightning, she hoped she hadn’t she had just wanted him away from her at the time. She could not help but wonder why he bothered so much with her, especially knowing that his plan for her was ruined. Perhaps there was more to it, maybe her overhearing those plans was part of the actual plan. She had no idea, but she knew it made no sense for someone like him to care about her. He was one of the best General’s the Imperials had, once Skyrim was under control again they’d face each other on the battlefield as enemies. More than that though there was something inherently good about him, a certain honor and kindness, behind the cunning, tough, intelligent General was a gentlemen, and she was a battlemage in the Thalmor, elves meant to rightfully dominant over mankind. The two didn’t go together well, yet he had been the one to throw her a lifeline while she was drowning. He hadn’t been kind or gentle but she would never have trusted sugar coated truth. No, he had shown her what she was doing, what she had truly become and she hated it more than her own image of herself. This man could see something in her that was redeemable, surely her own people could as well. She’d just have to prove it to them. First though she had to pay her debt, once again the General had saved her; the honor of her people stood in the balance until she rectified the situation. Thankfully one of her earlier ideas of enchanting gear for the Imperial Legion—a foolish notion when she thought about it now, divines had she went through with that plan she’d have no defense to give Elenwen when she justly charged her with treason—but she could give a small piece to him. It would be a small price to pay to keep him safe on the battlefield, even if the enemy was the Thalmor.

She couldn’t understand why she seemed to care about what happened to the old man but she’d chalk it up to duty and move on, analyzing it would only cause her frustration and confusion. She searched the tower for anything of value that nords would understand, she doubted they’d be much interested in fine art or rare books from Summerset. It took her a while but in a silver chest in the master bedroom she found a cache of ebony ingots and a leather journal. She frowned, a look of confusion and sadness settling in her eyes, their kind never left their journals laying around most of the time they always carried it with them for one to be left behind meant the author was most likely dead. She couldn’t help the curiosity that plagued her, she itched to open the journal but instead she tossed it on the bed. She’d look at it later, after she had taken care of things, instead she gathered up the ingots into a knapsack and left the tower before her courage failed her. 

The breeze outside was gentle and refreshing as she descended the stairs she could hear the clinging of swords against one another and the shouts of Captain Aldis correcting their form in the courtyard below. She didn’t miss the Captains glare as she walked through the open courtyard, she shot him an innocent smile and made her way through the archway until the smell of hot metal reached her. She approached the smithing station with trepidation, she studied the burly nord at the grindstone, tall, strong, and heavy built. She was suddenly unsure how to approach him, deciding instead on inspecting his work. There were many iron weapons hanging on a rack against the stone wall and she eyed them carefully. They were perfectly sharp and without flaw but they were merely iron, not good for anything other than fighting wolves in the wild. At least when the Thalmor finally conquered Skyrim outright the battle wouldn’t be too long or that difficult. A thought occurred to her then, “You make weapons and armor for the Imperials don’t you?”

The man sounded startled as he responded, “It’s almost all I have time for these days. The orders keep piling in to fight this war Ulfric started.”

“So you’re pretty dedicated to the Empire then?” She asked turning to look at him, he seemed a bit nervous as his eyes looked her up and down. She smiled at him softly, she knew exactly what her uniform did to people. 

“Well…no, not exactly,” He said, she raised her eyebrow and motioned for him to continue, “My loyalty lies with the King, or now Jarl I suppose; Elisif has decided to throw her lot in with the Empire. So I do what I can.” 

“Then perhaps you can explain to me why you are making sub par weapons and armor that will no doubt buckle under the slightest bit of pressure from a far more sturdier blade?” She turned to face him completely and folded her arms across her chest. 

It was almost amusing watching his brows furrow and his back straighten. Obviously she had hit a nerve, or his pride, perhaps both. “My weapons are of the finest make—”

“Do not lie. There are far better materials than iron, Beirand is it? Your wife is very charming as I recall, she talks about you a lot. I’m just trying to figure out why the finest blacksmith in Solitude is giving the Imperial Legion such weak weapons. Perhaps because Iron is so cheap? Maybe because it is all you know how to work with?” She kept her voice steady but quiet, she did not want to draw attention nor did she feel like dealing with a bellowing nord so early in the day. 

He seemed speechless but then he sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the grindstone, “It is all I can afford, if there weren’t so many orders of course I would make them finer weapons and armor, but as it is I’m already backlogged twenty full uniforms and thirty weapons. Steel and Iron are all I can offer and the Legion seems happy enough to take’em. I don’t see the problem.”

She curled her lip, critical thinking skills always managed to escape the nords, “Imagine if the General were to raid Windhelm, as will eventually happen, and he comes across an enemy wielding an ebony blade, what do you think will happen then? The General would fall, the Imperials would lose the war and Ulfric will gain the throne. Is that what you wish to happen?” 

“No, of course not but I do not have the resources to do better, elf!” He breathed in deeply, “Of course your people do but I don’t see the Thalmor helping out one bit in this war. It makes one wonder what side you lot are truly on.”

She nearly laughed but instead she tilted her head and replied, “We’re on our own side of course.” She reached into her pack and pulled out the ebony ingots, Beirand eyed them with blatant want, “Now I have some materials for you. You will use some of these ingots to forge General Tullius a better weapon, but the others are yours to do with as you please on one condition.”

His face went from excited to distrustful in seconds, he eyed her carefully but she remained unmoving and unrelenting, “And that condition would be?”

“I wanted to craft a necklace, I have not the resources or the gold to do so, if you were to supply the gold ingot and rubies, and perhaps teach me how to make it myself, you can have all the ebony in this bag and anymore I find lying around headquarters.” She offered. 

He looked at her puzzled, and she sighed, “Was there something you did not understand about my proposal?” How thick could nords possibly get?

“Only why you didn’t lead off with that. I would have said yes just like I am now.” He shrugged, and a smile crept on his face, “So there are things the Thalmor do not know, and need mans help?”

She did laugh then, “If you mean smithing, no. We have our own smiths and other craftsmen, but like nords, not every elf is trained or interested in the more tedious crafts. We certainly are capable of creating far better work than any man could possibly hope of emulating.” 

“Naturally.” Beirand said dryly, “Very well, I will teach you, but jewelry making is not quite the same as smithing, it is much more exacting.” He raised himself off the grindstone and threw open the door to his shop, “Heimvar bring me some gold ingots and then run down to my wife, see if she has any rubies.” 

“Yes sir!” a much younger nord called from inside the stone building. Moments later he rushed out with a few gold ingots in his arms and handed them off to Beirand before racing down the ramp towards Bits and Pieces. 

“Lad is far too much trouble than he is worth, but he’s making progress.” Beirand replied gruffly as if to explain the behavior of his harebrained apprentice.

She followed him to the forge and watched as he melted the gold ingot down into a thick golden molten liquid. It was beautiful, she watched curiously, listening intently to his directions and following them closely. She didn’t realize how meticulous it would be nor how much patience she’d need. It didn’t take more than half an hour for her to understand and believe Beirand’s excuse for using iron. He checked her work every so often but once she knew what to do there wasn’t much he could do for her, not when she wanted to do this herself. After all she had screamed at the man, insulted him, lumped him in with those disgusting Stormcloaks and then in the end caused him harm and threw him out. She definitely regretted getting drunk and losing control, it was not her best choice, and contrary to what she seemed to believe while under the influence being drunk itself was her lowest point. Thalmor were only allowed two drinks a week at night after their work and reports were finished and sealed. Drunkenness was not tolerated in their forces, rightfully so. 

An hour later she was placing the rubies in the golden medallion in the shape of a dragon. It was nearly finished, it just needed to set, she wiped the sweat from her face and flexed her cramped hands. She looked up at him, “Well does this look good?” 

Beirand came over and looked it over, “Looks alright to me, not bad for a beginner actually. Probably could sell this at market if you wished.” 

She raised her hands and called up the little bit of frost magic she knew, it was pitiful in combat but she could easily cool anything she needed. A weak but icy breeze drifted from her hands and surrounded the necklace until it was cool and hardened. She picked it up, proud that it looked and felt like a proper necklace, she smiled at her new accomplishment and skill set. “Thank you Beirand. And don’t forget, an ebony blade for the General.” She said as she stood and pocketed the necklace. She didn’t wait around for a reply, instead she made her way to the temple, a place she had been avoiding for a long time. 

For once she was glad people seemed to move away from her as she passed, the closer she got to the temple the more unsteady she felt. Thoughts of her parents invaded her mind, the old regret carving at her heart slowly. She pushed open the heavy door and ignored the priestess who greeted her. She could see Edinoch tending to a young couple in an alcove and the surprised look on his face when she walked by but she didn’t pay him any mind. She stood in front of the shrines, her eyes flitting over them. She knew the steady and sure path to Stendarr, she had tread it far too often in the past but she found herself making her way over to Mara’s shrine instead. She knelt down and bowed her head, “Mara, Goddess of love, please hear me now.” She whispered quietly, she clutched her robes tightly around herself. “My sins are many and my deepest regret I can not undo. I have prayed for forgiveness but can not seem to find it in myself. I miss them so much, and I only have myself to blame. Do they love me still? You can see my soul, tell me is there any love left for me?” 

She waited in silence, her heart pounding as a well of deep sorrow threatened to engulf her. The guilt she usually kept at bay rose its ugly head and wrapped itself tight around her heart. “I want to do better, but I do not know how. So much has happened and I am left with nothing but hatred and pain. Please, take it from me so I can at least remember what happiness feels like.” She had avoided this moment for so long, instead choosing to speak to Arkay and Stendarr, but all the while knowing her redemption lay not in their hands. Only Mara had what she sought, Arkay told her that enough but she ignored him, even when he had rebuked her for using him to hide. 

“You do not believe you deserve love, nor forgiveness, and so you will not find it. You will search until your end for that missing piece but when you die it will be with an empty heart for you have forsaken those willing to give you what you lack. You mustn’t let your fear rule over you my child, it will be your downfall. There is love for you, love like you have never felt before but the hatred you hold for yourself is still too strong for it to be known. In time it will come for I have not forsaken you.” The voice was warm and kind, a golden glow above her enveloped her in its warmth. She breathed in with relief as the despair and regret began to seep out of her. 

“Why? Why have you not forsaken me, after what I have done? I do not deserve your blessings Mother Mara.” She whispered. 

“You are blinded by your guilt, you can not see it for yourself. I alone can judge the worthiness of mortals, and I have deemed you worthy of love. Do not doubt my words, trust that I see more than you. Let that comfort you even in the worst of times. But still you have a question, I see it burning in your heart. Ask.” 

She gasped and muffled a sob, the golden magic surrounding her was so soothing, it reminded her of being in a mother’s embrace. Her pains faded away, her heartaches were muted, all that existed was the warmth and love that surrounded her. It was a balm, a sweet liquor and she wanted more, “My parents….do they hate me?” She trembled.

Mara chuckled softly, “No my child, they do not hate you, nor are they angry with you, they understand your decision even if they disagree with it. There is a love there, a longing to see their precious child again but most of all they wish you to be happy. As do I. Be safe Gadheriel, and know that you are not alone.” With that the glow around her slowly faded and the warmth disappeared. 

She breathed in deeply and calmed herself, tears stained her face and her hands shook but a weight had shifted and she felt lighter. She still felt the guilt but it was not all consuming any longer. She bowed her head once more, “Thank you Mother Mara, Goddess of Love. Be well.” She rose from the stone floor and wiped her eyes, almost incapable of comprehending the fact that her parents still loved her. She gave a giddy chuckle, a smile slid onto her face. It was almost too much to bare at once. She could tell everyone was looking at her with amazement, not many received such direct responses from the gods, but she had always been lucky for some reason. They always responded to her but her visits were rare and far between, it felt wrong somehow to abuse the privilege of getting to converse with them. She knew of plenty others who deserved the divines attentions probably more than her but it was she who they communicated with. Many had asked her why but she never knew, she had tried asking Arkay once; he had told her she would understand one day when she was close to his embrace. 

She began to leave the temple amidst fervent whispers and looks of awe, she wished for the umpteenth time that the shrines were more private. She didn’t think it appropriate that their worship and prayers were on a stage for all to see. She heard a woman being counseled to the left of the door sobbing, “Why does that elf get an answer to her senseless prayers while mine are ignored?! My daughter is dying and Mara doesn’t even care.” She ignored this as she ignored every other look of loathing that followed her wherever she went and left the temple as quickly as she had come. She made her way back to the tower still pondering Mara’s words and wondering what they meant exactly but all thought of the divines words were lost on her the minute she set foot inside the tower. Her thoughts turned to the journal resting on the bed upstairs. She lit the fire after grabbing it and cracked it open, her curiosity winning out. 

_“The First Emissary assigned me to Winterhold, the most boring hold in all of Skyrim, as if anything of import or relevance could come from such a pathetic attempt at civilization. I am sure this is just her way of punishing me for refusing an arranged marriage to her niece, as if I’d want to be tied to that boar for the rest of my days. The girl isn’t the least bit beautiful, her nose is far too large, her eyes beady and she sweats far too much to be a proper lady. The only elf in existence that would happily marry her is one with no shame or standards. Of course I did not tell that to the First Emissary, if I had I doubt that I would still be a free elf. Instead I politely declined and now get to babysit a bunch of useless, expendable agents spying on the least significant hold in the country. It is simply embarrassing, I am the Third Emissary after all. I thought to keep this new assignment hidden lest I hear the snide comments of my fellows but alas she would not even leave me that reprieve. She announced it in the weekly meeting, she was so proud of herself._

_I won’t be at this post forever I am sure, I just have to work my way into her good graces once again. Surely there must be something of import out there, something worthy of my own redemption in the eyes of the First Emissary. Saddrianne will not consent to marry me if I am in such a terrible position in the Embassy, and I will not have that. Plenty of others are already considering her for marriage, but I have known her since we were children. She is mine! I will not see her married off to the Second Emissary or worse a Thalmor of lesser rank that has noticed my currently weak position in the Thalmor and hopes to make his own fortune upon it. So to Winterhold I go, I just hope they bathe, Auri-el knows the inhabitants of Falkreath often forget.”_

She had to re-read the first entry again just to make sure she understood, but how could this possibly be? The journal of the Third Emissary, but how was this possible? Surely he wouldn’t have left his own journal behind, especially with such damning words written on the very first page! She frowned, searching her memory, she could recall the man easily enough. He was short, for an Altmer male, with bronze hair and yellow eyes, his nose was sharp with upturned lips set in a perpetual smirk. Cineryl was his name if she recalled correctly, he had been unpleasant even for a Thalmor but very simple-minded, she was never quite sure how one such as he managed to gain rank at all. In her opinion he wasn’t even fit to be a Justiciar let alone an Emissary, but his family was prominent enough that perhaps his flaws were overlooked. She wondered what happened to him, he had suddenly disappeared and when questioned Elenwen had merely stated that he was home on leave. She flipped to the next page and read on.

_“This place is even more drab than I had originally given it credit for. The pathetic inhabitants of this ruined city look so defeated it would be considered a mercy to kill them all. Perhaps one day. They don’t even have the motivation to rebuild, they are quite pleased to leave houses torn apart by a mysterious catastrophe standing, not even thinking to tear them down and rebuild. They are like dogs kicked too much or not enough, time will tell. There aren’t many opportunities in this place, the town, if it can be called that at all, boasts only a pitiful General store with a meager selection of goods and a run-down inn filled with vagabonds and embittered men. The only saving grace is the college of winterhold, a place teaching magic of all things. It is most ironic that such a college exists in a land full of men who are determined to hate anything they do not or can not understand. Even more ironic that such a place of greater education resides in a country known for illiteracy and bad hygiene. I decided to pay a visit to the college the other day and found the entrance guarded by a rather rude but very pretty Altmer mage. Faralda, it’s a shame she was given such a brutish name for she is a fine creature indeed._

_After much arguing I was granted access to the college only to find it nearly abandoned. There were plenty of staff well-versed in the arcane arts but there were no students. When I inquired as to why this place existed if there weren’t any students the arch-mage, a terribly annoying Dunmer, simply told me the students had gone into the wilds to experiment and should be back any time. It was obviously a lie. There were no personal belongings in the dorms, nor did the professors seem like they were waiting on the return of any apprentices. It is obvious something happened here but no one will talk to me. I have decided to station Ancano at the college to keep an eye on things. Hopefully he will have news for me soon but I highly doubt it. I have decided to walk through the hold, perhaps there is a more civilized town within the holds borders. I do not find myself very hopeful of that but it must be done to ascertain facts for the First Emissary. It is so very cold up here, it snows everyday and the wind howls like a dying beast, how any can survive this place I know not._

_I have received a missive from my parents back in Alinor, my younger sister was born last Loredas. She is perfect according to Mother, and Father has high hopes for her. He told me, and I quote, “I am sure she won’t disappoint us, especially since she has an older brother she can look to for examples of what not to do.” Honestly that man knows nothing of what I have went through these last few years, but it is of no matter, after all I am still the first born and the inheritance is still safely within my grasp. Perhaps this perfect child of theirs will grow sick and die, that would be just what they deserve. I do miss home though, there is nothing here that comes close to it. I feel a life time away from everything I love and there seems to be no hope of a path back any time soon. Damn nords. It would be far simpler to wipe them from the face of the planet. Tamriel wouldn’t be any different for their absence and in a few short years they’d be completely forgotten as they should be.”_

She winced at his cold words, she had known Cineryl to be a selfish, cold prick but she had never realized how deep his hatred ran. He had wished death upon his own sister in his selfish hubris. She shook her head, he was not working for the Thalmor but for his own benefit, though that was hardly a rare occurrence within their ranks. Still it rubbed her the wrong way, most of the higher ups were truly committed to the cause, they also happened to be the most cruel, but dedicated and loyal regardless. Did Elenwen begin to see the truth within the man and gotten rid of him? She sighed and rubbed her eyes, utterly disgusted and disturbed by what she had read, she couldn’t help being curious still but she did not want to read anymore of his disparaging words at the moment. She tossed the journal on the chair besides hers and realized Ancano was still at the college if memory served her correctly. She frowned wondering why if the Emissary who stationed him there had been removed from duty there would have been an investigation into all matters that the Emissary handled. Had they found something at the college? Something that gave them enough reason to keep Ancano there despite their sacking of his boss? She sighed and rubbed her eyes, her curiosity was pulling her back towards the journal but she refused to read anymore. The mindset of the Third Emissary was not a healthy one for her to indulge in, especially now. 

She went into the kitchen and cooled a waterskin before sipping it slowly, her eyes fell upon the ingredients for the soup and she nearly inhaled the water as she realized she had neglected to make the General’s soup. She cursed as she began to prepare it, he’d need to be one daily doses for another week if he was to get better and also weaned off of it, the seeds were addictive if taken too long. Most of the time people avoided the soup for better options but there had been no other cure that could fix someone as ill as the General had been. Elves didn’t have as much practical use for the recipe anyhow, their magic protected them a bit from the effects and they seemed to last longer than a man with the same affliction so it never quite got as severe as the General’s. She had no other choice but to use the recipe, she winced at her negligence. She cooked the soup as fast as physics would allow her to before wrapping the handle in a tea towel and carefully carrying it down the stairs towards Castle Dour. 

She was not enthused to be going back to the Castle, not even for a short visit. She had gotten used to the tower, and she had left things horribly with the General. Not to mention the offhanded comments Rikke and Tullius had made about this elf-hating General. This was not going to be fun, but it was her own fault that she had to be there and she certainly couldn’t leave the General without his dose. She sighed and gently threw open the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Bethesda owns everything, they won't even share Sotha Sil :(


	5. Wine and Nightmares, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates, I have re-discovered my love for Fable during the holidays and got sucked into it. 
> 
> And next chapter we finally get into the world of Skyrim which I am excited about. No more sitting around Solitude.

Castle Dour was as dim and poorly lit as she remembered, it was certainly named accurately for the grimness it exuded. She wondered how the hell anyone could call this home for an extended period of time without going mad. When she stepped into the main chamber she was met by a tall Imperial with dark hair and hazel eyes, his nose was crooked and his mouth was set in a perpetual frown. His brows furrowed when he saw her and he stiffened his back, she looked him up and down. She noted the officer robes and knew immediately this wasn’t the new General, she nearly sighed with relief, as curious as she was she also didn’t want a conflict. “What’re you doing here elf?” the man said coldly.

“I have come to see the General, human.” She replied hurling the noun like it left a foul taste in her mouth.

“What do the Thalmor want?” He asked sharply, his arms folding across his chest. 

“Perhaps you’re hard of hearing, I’ll go slower for you. I want to see the General.” She said slowly. She smiled as he scowled at her.

“Let me rephrase so perhaps you’ll understand,” he snapped, “ _Why_ do you wish to see the General?” He began to tap his foot impatiently, she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“We do not answer to you boy, you should remember that. I would think the Imperial Legion would have taught you to respect your superiors by now, although if further correction is needed the Thalmor would be more than willing to provide it. Now if you’re not too busy staring at that map I’d suggest you make haste in procuring the General.” She raised her chin and stared into his eyes, daring him to disobey. She smirked as she watched his jaws and fists clench, humans were so easy. She enjoyed these little moments where she could slip into her Thalmor Commander role with ease and feel the rush of confidence and security that made interacting so much easier. After everything that had happened she desperately needed the reminder that this part of her lived, even if a little piece of her still remained wary it didn’t matter, she was no longer in magical restraints. No human man could get in arms reach of her without injury, not as long as she let the wary part of her study and observe her surroundings. 

He paused for a moment and looked her up and down. A peculiar look coming over his face as if he just realized something, “You’re too late General Bastillion has left, he will not return for another week. I am afraid you will have to return then if you wish to speak to him.” 

“I do not wish to speak to some second-rate temporary replacement, I wish to speak to General Tullius.” She informed him in a bored drawl, the longer she had to talk to him the more annoyed she was getting, was every human on this planet sent here just to give her a hard time?

“General Bastillion is hardly second-rate, elf. You should know, he killed a bunch of your kind in the war, I’m sure he can’t wait to do so again.” The man said darkly.

“Unfortunately he didn’t kill nearly as many elves as we killed men, now did he?” She gave him an innocent smile, “If you will not fetch the old man I shall search the entire Castle myself.” She moved towards the door at the back of the room, wondering where the Legion might keep any important documents when suddenly her arm was yanked back. She jerked backwards hard, her hands losing grip on the kettle sending it to the floor with a loud crash. Her heart thudded in her chest, how the hell did he get over to her so quickly? He turned her to face him and she glared at him.

“I’m going to warn you now soldier, let me go.” She hissed angrily, anxiety was climbing up her throat, tightening it painfully but she swallowed against it.

“I don’t think so, elf. General Tullius is busy with Imperial business and is not to be bothered by the likes of you, do you understand?” He snarled as he leaned towards her. 

“I do not care about your petty business, you have no authority over me. In fact, it is quite the opposite. You answer to the Thalmor. Now you are going to let me go or you will have to answer to First Emissary Elenwen when she asks how you dare question Thalmor authority and why you have impeded our business.” She replied venomously. His grip was painful and only getting tighter with every syllable she spoke but she refused to show him any weakness.

He smiled at her and said in a soft voice, “Your threats are empty and you know it. You see one of the very first things we do when we inherit a botched job is review past reports, and Legate Rikke had a very detailed one about you, Gadheriel. So lets not lie to one another now, you’re not here on Thalmor business, are you? No, you elves go everywhere in pairs of three. I’d wager that your superiors do not even know you are here. I wonder what would happen if I were to inform the First Emissary myself that you are playing hookie, hm?” His face was only inches away from hers, she could smell his putrid breath. She tried to yank her arm free but he merely tightened his grip. She gritted her teeth against the pain radiating up her arm and glared at him. “Nothing to say, hm? Well that’s a first I am sure. Now according to Rikke’s report you suffered a myriad of injuries…I always wanted to see what an elf would look like without their pointy ears…” He said maliciously.

He brushed her hair aside, she tried to rear her head back but his hand grabbed on to her ear and held her still. Her mind went blank and her vision went red, a boiling anger taking hold of her as faint laughter filled her ears. She swore she could feel blood trickling down her neck and the hot breath of the man cutting her ears off ghosted across her face. Flames enveloped her hand and she grabbed onto his arm, he yelled out in pain as the flames began to burn through his uniform and lick across his bare skin. His hand left her ear and reached for the hilt of his sword dangling on his hip. She ducked under the arm as he unsheathed the sword and as he turned to face her she threw her body against his back slamming him face first into the wall. She kept her vice like grip on his arm as it continued to burn and the other clutched the back collar of his uniform holding him to the wall. She leaned against him and whispered in his ear, “Sometimes I wonder how your infantile race has survived this long when you are all so foolishly stupid.” She chuckled softly, “I’ll give it to you though, Elenwen would be right pissed, I’m sure enough to have me punished if not worse, but I wonder what would happen when she found out that Castle Dour was left unattended, one General gone and the other ill with only you, a man who openly admitted to them that he dared question the sovereignty of the Aldmeri Dominion. What do you think would be the outcome, boy?”

He clenched his jaws shut, muffled growls of pain slipping through as the stench of burning flesh filled the air. “Do you think she’d pat you on the head and tell you what a good boy you are? Or perhaps she’d storm the place in anger, killing any who opposed her, taking whatever she pleased and throwing you in northwatch keep, and then writing a missive to your dear Emperor telling him what a disgrace you have been and the jeopardy you have caused the very shakey agreement our people have. So tell me, soldier, are you prepared to risk all of that just to spite one tiny little elf? Is your pride worth it? Or will you go get the General for me like I have asked?”

“I’ll get the General.” He growled at her, fury in his eyes, “Let me go!” He tried to shake her off but she merely pulled him back from the wall then shoved him towards the door. 

“Then get a move on it, I have better things to do then wait on you all day.” She said coldly. She watched as he cradled his burned arm to his chest and threw her a glare that surely would have killed her on the spot had he any magical training before disappearing into the Castle. She breathed out as the adrenaline slowly drained from her, leaving her with trembling hands and an itching anxiety. She reached up and gently touched her ears to make sure they were not injured, she felt no blood or open wounds. She shut her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to steady herself. She was not Gadheriel, she was a Thalmor agent. She lowered her hands and tilted her chin up, doing her best to keep her face expressionless. 

She didn’t have to wait long before the door was thrown open again with as much anger as before. Tullius looked livid as he stood before her, “What right do you have to come here and injure one of our men? The boy is only twenty-five and will be lucky if he can ever use that arm again! You burned straight through the nerves.” 

“Good, perhaps he will think twice before assaulting a Thalmor agent.” She said quietly, an awkwardness settled into the room as the two stared at one another, “If he had tried that with one of my colleagues he wouldn’t be capable of complaining.” 

Tullius glared at her, “You seem uninjured to me. I highly doubt—”

“Of course you do. After all I’m just an elf, so surely the human must be accurately portraying what happened.” She said bitterly. She bit her lip as the words slipped past her lips, she cursed herself for slipping into old habits. There was something about this man that stopped her right in her tracks, her Thalmor commander visage dropping immediately when he came around. 

He frowned and sighed, “I see that sobriety hasn’t changed your opinion at all. So what is it then, why have you barged in here uninvited and assaulted one of our soldiers?”

She frowned, an uncomfortable and unwelcome need to explain herself overcoming her but she pursed her lips against it. Who cared if this man thought so little of her? Could she even blame him after what she had done the other night? She sighed and looked away from him, “Well I came to give you your soup, but I’m afraid I’ll have to make another batch.” She said motioning to the mess on the floor.

He looked between the mess and her suspiciously, before his shoulders dropped a fraction, “You were telling the truth.” 

“You sound so surprised.” She said dryly.

He raised his brow at her, “I assumed you wouldn’t have attacked him with soup in your hands. Although now that I am thinking about it last night you made quite an impressive battle with dinnerware...” 

“Indeed.” She flushed feeling like an idiot, “Well then, you still need your dose. You will need one every night for a week until I can wean you off properly.” She looked closely at him and saw how tired he looked. He looked run down and trodden upon. The man was usually so stiff and proud she didn’t think he had it in him to look so lost. 

“I can not leave just yet, Bastillion has me doing all the reports, training, and mending the armors.” He sighed exasperated. 

“He works you hard for someone who thinks you’re not fit for the job.” She remarked wryly, “You will relapse if this isn’t taken care of. Oh very well, come later I suppose but I will drag you out of here if you don’t show up.” With that she stiffly left the Castle as quickly as she had come and made her way back to the tower. She fell into the chair before the fireplace and sighed, she had hours to burn and quite literally nothing to do. She had never been so bored in her entire life. Her eyes drifted towards the bookcase full of tomes she had undoubtedly read quite a few times already before remembering the journal. She snatched it off the stand and flipped to where she left off.

_“I have spent the last month painstakingly marching through this despicable and treacherous hold only to find there is nothing out there but snow and the conniving, vicious creatures that live in such horrid conditions. The only thing of slight import that I discovered was another dwemer ruin, but from what I have found inside so far there lies nothing of import besides the typical Falmer and metal death contraptions. It is well-known of course that the dwemer had used soul gems to power their constructs, one must wonder how many souls they sent to the Soul Cairn to exist in unending torment. It’s a pity they didn’t just use the local nords to replenish their stocks, though I suppose it is hardly prudent to kill all of your cattle. In the main chamber there was a strange device, it seemed to be missing a component to make it function correctly. I have never seen anything quite like it in any of the other dwemer ruins I have come across, it does make me wonder what it does, surely it must be of some value if the damn cave elves went to such great lengths to conceal it. I could find nothing in the ruin that looked like it would fit, nor do I have any idea what could possibly be needed. It is infuriating to know that even the most significant discovery is locked away from me. Perhaps however, a dwemer expert could be brought in to evaluate it, I do remember Ondolemar mentioning a fellow Altmer in Markarth who had an unnatural obsession with the dwarves. Perhaps he would know, I shall write a missive to him and see._

_I do not know how long I shall be posted here or what I am even supposed to do here, it is exasperating. Frankly I do not see why we can not just execute all the people in this damnable land and be done with it. The Concordat is a joke, a sham to make the Imperials feel better, it would be all too easy to just put an end to their miserable lives now instead of carrying on with this farce for no apparent reason. We marched across their lands with ease and they believe one victory would have us trembling in fear enough to consider an actual Concordat? Such fools. Is it a wonder they’re so easy to kill when they’re so very stupid? I suppose it matters not in the end for I am stuck listening the ear-splitting sound of Elenwen’s voice until the day I die, I do often wonder what I could have possibly done to offend the Divines enough to suffer such a fate. It would not be so bad if the elf was at least attractive but it seems nature was rather consistent with her. Perhaps one day, if I am lucky, I’ll get the privilege to watch the ugly bitch fall on her sword. Quite literally. Until then I am stuck here, stuck! The only consolation prize to this exile is that I am so far away from Elenwen, I suppose I will take what I can get in that regard.”_

Her brows raised as she stared in shock at the entry, the hatred and anger in his words were so heated she could almost feel them burning off the parchment. Had this journal been discovered? It would explain the man’s disappearance. She could only imagine how Elenwen would react to reading such disparaging remarks about herself, but if the journal had been discovered it would not be laying around for any one to find. She wondered what in the hell possessed the Emissary to commit such thoughts to writing, did he have a death wish? Had he gone mad in the forsaken hold? She stood and drifted over to the desk pressed against the wall that separated the kitchen and parlor. She pulled a fresh piece of parchment towards her and found a suitable quill. She intended to take notes for her own upcoming journey. If nothing else she already had two places to investigate, the college and the dwemer ruins, perhaps a trip to Calcelmo as well. She imagined Elenwen would not be entirely pleased with her looking into any matters concerning the fallen Emissary but if there was a chance at redemption she would take it and of course, her blasted curiosity always won out over everything else. She could almost hear her mother’s voice saying, “I never thought I’d have a child whose curiosity was much greater than their survival extinct. Your father and I seem to carry the burden of your survival for you, but never fear dear we shall guard it lovingly.” A wistful ghost of a smile crossed over her face as her eyes closed, a wave of grief crashed down on her with such force it was staggering. Her breath shook for long seconds as she steadied herself against the desk and tried to center herself against the sudden surprising onslaught of feelings. What she wouldn’t give to see her parents again, just one last time. She bit her lip and straightened her back stiffly knowing that would never happen. She had to stop harming herself with long lost memories and wistful what-ifs. She shook her head as she opened the journal once more in the hope that she could wash away any lingering sorrow.

_“I received notice from Ancano the other day that the College once again held students, from what I could gather from his inane ramblings these were new students and not the ones past. I do still wonder whatever happened to those students, I highly doubt the Arch-mages story of suddenly disappearing apprentices and dangerous magicks but there is no evidence of anything else. I visited this morning to find a group of young nords and dunmer gathering in the Hall of Elements, there was even a mangy cat trying to wield magicka, though perhaps they just hired him as pest control without realizing that Khajiit come with more problems then they could ever hope to solve. No good thieves and liars with no regard for anyone else, they are nothing more than disease ridden beasts and I shudder to recall that at one time they were allies in the first Aldmeri Dominion. Thankfully we have higher standards and no need to degrade ourselves by allying ourselves with mongrels any longer. The new students seemed eager to control whatever pathetic amount of magicka they possess, though the only one of promise I could see was a very pretty Dunmer, Brelyna. Still I was quite surprised to hear they intended to dig around Saarthal, I had passed the ancient burial tomb on my way to that blasted dwemer ruin, but had not thought upon it since._

_I have done some research and found something quite interesting, according to the nords Saarthal was the first city of men in Tamriel. They had stumbled upon an artifact of immense power and the snow elves feared what they would do with such a thing. The elves rightfully ransacked the village, after all men know only how to wage war. They do it often enough, their brutish lives already so short but they spend it killing each other, what else would they do with power but use it to harm others? That is all they had ever done. And of course the long insufferable story of Ysgramor begins with his genocide, as if driving an entire race to extinction was a fair trade for a couple hundred of men. As if any man’s life was worth even half of a single elf’s! It has never been said though that men were the most logical of creatures. From what I have researched none of the legends state what happened to the artifact that began this genocide. All the authors were of course men more intent on disparaging elves and spouting their racist propaganda than actually taking into account anything of true significance. Nowhere does it even state what the artifact was! Of course there are no sane falmer alive now, if only there was one I could still reach. I have a theory though, maybe with some strong illusion, restoration and soul magicka I could restore enough sanity to a Falmer._

_In those regards I have set out to the nearby Dwemer ruins in hope of capturing as many of our fallen elven brethren as possible. There might be a chance that the story had been passed down. It is the only chance I have of discovering the true nature of this artifact and I fear time is not on my side. If those college mages stumble upon the artifact before I can get my hands on it there will be hell to pay. I have instructed Ancano to delay them as much as possible, and my own men have deployed various traps and vicious beasts we had captured long ago for study along the path to Saarthal. I can only hope that they try to pass and get mauled to death, though I am hardly that lucky. We shall see, I must be off for now. The journey will not be easy.”_

She placed the journal down in shock, Saarthal?! She knew that story well, her heart had always ached for the Snow elves and their fate both at the hands of men and their own elven brethren. The dwemer were lesser elves, below even Orsimer, for what they had done. Plenty of people saw the Falmer as the cursed elves but really it was the dwemer. She pursed her lips as outrage coursed through her, if there was anything she couldn’t stand it was traitorous elves. She breathed in deeply and began taking notes on what she had learned, using another piece of parchment to create a timeline of the Emissary’s movements. She leaned back wondering if he had been successful in capturing the Falmer and extracting any useful information. She had been disappointed he hadn’t expanded on his theory, but she could guess what it entailed. She felt another wave of sympathy course through her, the magicka he would use upon them was not kind. If she was right they would be cruel and excruciating experiments at best. She may not have any love for the twisted creatures that the Falmer became but she thought they had suffered enough. For all their worship and devotion to Auri-el it did them no good in the end. She frowned, did they mean so little to the divines that their gods were willing to sit back and watch their entire people suffer and perish? It made no sense, the Aedra needed their worship to remain powerful, it was a mutual benefit. Everyone in the Isle knew that, it is why they forced upon men the worship of the divines. If they made their gods stronger than they could be strengthened through the Divines themselves. Of course though, Auri-el was different, that would not have helped the Snow Elves. She snorted had they chosen any other god they might have made it to present day, that was the sad irony of it all.

She shoved herself away from the desk as her mood and thoughts turned dark and stood. She glanced at the oaken grandfather clock standing resolute near the door, she only had a few hours before the General would be there and the place was a mess. She began to tidy up with a ferocity that surprised even herself, she only wished she could scrub the floors hard enough to scrub the past away. She mopped the floors, scrubbed the counters, burned the trash, placed things away and even did her own laundry. She was exhausted by the time she began to prepare the soup again, she had never quite realized how much work went into housekeeping. There were always servants around her from the time she was born through to her Embassy days, she had never had to lift a finger to so much as dust. She hoped she had been at least polite to the servants she had come across, cleaning wasn’t hard but it was tiring and tedious. And not anywhere near intellectually stimulating, but perhaps that was the problem. Why else would one become a servant unless they had no education and therefore no hope of anything better? Of course, servants were needed so no one did anything to rectify the situation because then the noble ladies would have to risk their perfect skin washing dishes. She smiled as she berated her brethren, including herself. Her family had been well off and they had had plenty of servants around. She sighed as she put the finishing seasoning into the soup and let it continue to boil softly over the open flame in the large fireplace. A swift knock nearly made her jump out of her skin, her heart beating rapidly she opened the door just a crack but it was enough to see the broad shoulders, grey hair and tired eyes of General Tullius.

She opened the door completely and stepped aside to let him through, “Good you’re here, your soup is almost done.” 

His eyes took in the place warily, “I see you’ve cleaned.” 

She felt heat rise in her cheeks, “Yes, twice now. My dainty hands will never be the same again. Do you want something to drink?” He looked alarmed suddenly and she laughed, “Do not worry I have learned my lesson about drinking too much.” She grabbed him a glass of wine and set it on the side table between the chairs. She perched herself on one of the chairs and checked the soup, slowly stirring it. An awkward silence fell, it weighed heavily in the room both of them thinking about the other night but neither wanting to bring it up. She sighed impatiently wishing for it to be over with but also knowing the ball was mostly in her court.

“I apologize for acting like a crazed barbarian the other night. It was uncalled for and most unlike a lady of my station.” She said stoically, her lips barely moving and her eyes certainly not leaving the pot of soup. She bit her lip and sighed knowing it was a woefully inadequate apology but she had never been good at I’m sorry’s, not even to her own kind let alone a man. She slowly turned to face him and frowned, “I do not know what to say to make things better. I meant you no harm, alright?” She cringed inwardly at how waspishly that came out, was it really so hard for her to let go of her pride for just a few moments? 

He stood unmoving, silent and steady as he looked at her, his eyes hard and unreadable, “Your favorite color is yellow.”

She blinked slowly, both confused and surprised, “What?” What did that have to do with anything? She frowned, was he mocking her? Or was that an acceptance of her apology? 

“You said I knew nothing about you.” He mentioned as he slowly sat down in the chair beside her own. He slowly sipped the glass of wine she had offered and looked into the fire. She stared at him amazed, “Whenever you were given a choice of clothes you always picked something with yellow in it. You were drawn to books with yellow bindings, and yellow bed linens.” He offered up as explanations.

Her brow raised, she had to admit she was impressed with his observational skills, but couldn’t put her finger on the emotion that he had invoked within her. No one had ever before taken such an interest in her to study her like that, but of course he had wanted to ally himself with her, he would have to get to know her. Of course it was part of his plan all along. Her mouth filled with a sour taste and her chest with disappointment she couldn’t explain away so easily. “Yes, I like yellow.” At least it was useless information he had gleaned from her, a token consolation prize at best. 

“I was surprised to see you in your uniform.” He commented quietly, turning his head to look at her. 

She gave a small smile, “I didn’t realize how much it matters. I feel….differently when I am within it, stronger, better. More confident. I feel like who I am supposed to be, not….well it is better with it on. Easier.” She shrugged quietly. 

“You’re using it to hide.” He accused her with soft reproach, she sighed exasperated.

“Is this not what you wanted from me?” She threw her hands up in the air, “It infuriates me, there is no reason—no explanation. It is unheard of! You have no idea how unbelievable frustrating it is to me to realize I—it matters not. This is what I am, a Thalmor, nothing more. If I need to be in uniform to do my duties than I shall sleep, eat and bathe in it. After all, I have wasted much time feeling sorry for myself and living in fear as you said. It is time I returned to what I really am.”

“That changes nothing about who you are though. One day you won’t be wearing that uniform, and then what will you do?” He sipped his wine, not daring to meet her eyes.

“Why do you even care? I highly doubt either of us will live long enough to see the end of this war, especially not you with your tiny allotment of years Lorkhan gave you.” She sneered, “I suppose I could take a page out of your book though and become somebodies lap dog.” She smirked as a scowl formed upon his face. “I take it that Bastillion’s men have taken the man’s attitude upon themselves?”

“Somewhat, the Empire lets their higher ranking officials choose their main ranks. He likes to take men with similar mindsets to his own, and of course put them together long enough and you have a volatile mixture.” Tullius sighed and leaned his head back, “I did not sign up in the Legion to be a secretary or servant and yet here I am. All my life, my time and work, my dedication and loyalty. I risked my life for the Empire and this is what it has come to.” 

“Feeling sorry for yourself General? How unlike you.” She commented smoothly, “How the tables have turned.”

“Oh yes and I am sure you are enjoying every second.” He commented wryly. She poured him another glass of wine, “Trying to get me drunk?”

“Well it seemed to set me straight.” She shrugged.

His lips twitched as if fighting a smile, “Yes but I am the one that paid for it.”

“Not to worry you can barely harm me. You get drunk you won’t even be able to walk straight let alone swing that sword with any accuracy. I highly doubt you will even be capable of making a mess. You’re no nord after all.” 

“Thank the Divines for that!” he burst out. 

She threw him a quick side glance before her eyes returned to the fire, “I take it you’re not fond of the nords?”

“Well some of them are alright I suppose, but they’re so bloody stubborn and completely unreasonable. It’s infuriating.” He seethed, taking a large gulp of his wine.

“Yes I know how you feel.” She may not have been facing him but even without looking she could feel his glare. She busied herself ladling the soup into a bowl and cooling it enough with her weak ice magic. She handed it to him, “Eat.”

He looked into it with some trepidation, “You said you had to wean me off, what exactly does that mean?”

She sighed, “The seeds are addictive—”

“You got me addicted to elven narcotics?” He hissed, outrage plastered across his face.

She burst out laughing at the vision that conjured in her mind, she couldn’t stop herself for many long moments. It had been too long since she had laughed until her belly hurt, but when she calmed down she wore a soft smile and shrugged, “High Elves are superiorly bred with the utmost fine breeding and polite manners. To spoil our bodies with such distasteful things as narcotics with the intention of getting high would be a sinful endeavor only furthering ourselves from ultimate perfection and damning us to remain in this world with you lot. There is no high good enough to condemn ourselves to such a fate General, I assure you. There are no—respectable—high elves running around with a drug problem, high and looking for an apothecary to get their fix.”

He glared at her, “No but chemical warfare is not unheard of, what is this part of your grand plan? Poison the general enough for him to be completely dependent on you?” He shoved the soup away from him. 

She sighed, “You know if your plan is going to work you’re going to have to trust me, or at least show me a pretense of trust.” 

“You’ve been feeding me an addictive substance this entire time—without telling me! And I am supposed to trust you? And what of my plan, I am seeing now that my plan would be more beneficial to you than it is to me. Hardly an endorsement to pursue it further.” He snapped harshly. 

She looked away at the cutting remark, frustrated that he affected her so when he had absolutely no right or reason to do so. “Did it ever occur to you that you were in such a bad way that the only possible way to save your life was drastic measures? That these ingredients are not used lightly even in the Summerset Isles for the very reason they are addictive? They are used as a last resort, when the only other alternative is death. If you’d rather be dead than be temporarily dependent on me than why are you here?” 

He sighed, “You always take things the worst possible way. I didn’t mean—I didn’t know.”

“No of course not, you just assumed the worst about me, but why wouldn’t you?” Her voice was bitter even if she was speaking more to herself than him. She knew the cost of donning the uniform she could hardly blame him. 

“Since when did a human opinion matter to a superior elf?” He asked her cautiously, a smirk dancing on his lips promising a provocation.

“It doesn’t, or at least it shouldn’t. Opinions of the less advanced and intelligent should not sway the likes of those gifted with a higher understanding. That would just be disastrous and yet here we are.” She spoke quietly looking at the floor beneath her feet. It felt like there was a hole in her chest, hollow and aching to be filled for so many years. “I’m tired General.” She admitted softly, she relaxed into the chair as a great weight shifted off of her back and a shiver ran down her spine. 

She could feel his sharp gaze on her, “Do something about it.” 

She snorted, “What would you have me do? I can not turn back now,” she rubbed her temples, “It is not like I disagree with the ideals of the Thalmor—how they implement them yes, but not the mission statement. I can not simply retire or ask for leave. We are not a military, I have told you before it is life in the Thalmor or death. I must carry on.”

“You do not have to carry on like you have been, you could do something different, something better—”

“Ah, I was wondering if you would give me a sales pitch.” She turned to him and gave him a pointed look, “I am not some half-wit nord teetering on the brink of signing up for the Legion or returning to the farm to pick corn.”

She was surprised when he began laughing, “Well I had to give it a shot. So what are you going to do than?”

“Pursue my own interests within the organization. I have to sort out this whole mess first of course, but hopefully I haven’t made too much of an issue of it. I figure I can finish my circuit then head up to check on Winterhold.” She shrugged, “Hope to find something to inspire Elenwen’s mercy.”

“You’re telling me that elf has the ability to be merciful? Good luck with that one.” He scoffed, “When do you plan on leaving?”

“End of this week, when your treatments are done. I’ll actually be doing something useful for once in a long while even if it is just a bullshit assignment in the first place. As if Elenwen doesn’t know exactly where each holds alliance lies.” She rolled her eyes but then her face softened, “It is better than sitting around waiting for the ax to fall however. I try to think of it as a ‘saving my own neck’ kind of mission.”

“A worthy endeavor if nothing else.” He replied in a tone she didn’t recognize.

She glanced over at him, his face was soft but still completely unreadable, “What are you going to do?”

“Me?” He said in surprise, “What else am I to do but wait until my leave is up?”

“And if they don’t reinstate you for months? Years? Did they even tell you when you’d be back in service or where?” her brows were raised. 

“Well no but what else can I do? I vowed loyalty to the Empire, if this is what they want than so be it.” He said gruffly, almost daring her to challenge him.

“Interesting. So you’re okay with things possibly going south, many people dying on all sides, the Thalmor continuing their world domination scheme, so long as your Emperor tells you to sit by and do nothing?” She prodded in disbelief, “That hardly sounds like the honorable and noble General that saved my life. Would you have left me to die had it been ordered?”

A suffocating silence permeated the air, a heaviness falling in the room before he answered, “Yes. I would have.”

She turned to him then completely, drawing her knees up to rest against the arm rest, “And now if I were to leave the city and get attacked by bandits, would you stand by and watch me get beaten to death if Bastillion ordered it?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened and his hands gripped the armrests of his chair before he sighed, “I…don’t know. I picture it in my head and I would want to help you. It would be difficult not to save you, I feel responsible for you almost now. I don’t know why, I have saved many lives in my time as General but it was always in the battlefield, in the heat of war. Just a duty, and if I kept them alive they’d in turn keep me alive. With you though it was different.”

“It was an act of mercy and compassion, even with your grand scheme to make me a turncoat.” She nodded, her eyes fixed on him. The atmosphere of the tower had changed she noticed, before it was empty but light and now it seemed to expand until it was threatening to burst, the fire in the hearth was burning hot, and the air was thick with some weird emotion. 

“I just see your body on the road, lying in a pool of blood and your empty glazed eyes staring towards me…it is not…I do not want that.” He closed his eyes as if trying to ward off the vision his words evoked, “But the prospect of losing everything I worked for, everything I am…I can’t imagine. What would it all have been for then? Your death would be horrible, it would haunt me. I would never forget it but I would go on, and try to forget it, try not to think of it and just focus on duty until the day I die.” He shrugged, shifting in his chair. She smiled as his cheeks became red.

“Is that what you plan to do? Be a General until you can not anymore then die?” She frowned. She couldn’t imagine that mindset, everything she did was for the Thalmor but in the end it was for her and her people, for all people. She also had plans for after the war, she couldn’t imagine not having a life outside of the Thalmor, even if she knew she’d die before seeing it.

“It is what I signed up for, what I am good at. What is the worth of a man who has a talent and wastes it away?” His face tightened.

“What is a man who has nothing but a title? Don’t you want a life outside of war General? Did you not ever wish for a wife and child? A quiet place in the fields below a mountain where the wild flowers bloom and a small pond where the wild animals come to drink next to you?” 

“That is oddly specific.” He said a smile growing on his lips.

“It is what I want, but you know with a husband.” She sighed, “I would love to just have a family again. Have someone to come home to, someone that was mine.”

“I never took you for the domestic housewife type.” He snorted, “You better hope to find a husband just as stubborn as you are. You have no family? I thought the elves had these sprawling families and were all interconnected with one another.”

She smiled, “Ah yes the belief men have that incest is a rampant cultural affair of the elves. Hardly. Incest leads to birth defects and deformities, hardly perfect. Though all things are interconnected you know, everything has a start and an end. Many elves have large families but just as many do not. Especially after Tiber Septim and the Thalmor decimated us.” Her smile slid off her face and her arms wrapped around her stomach. “I do not have anyone anymore. My entire extended family and my parents died in the Thalmor insurrection, it is just me now.”

“I don’t understand you at all.” He shook his head, “You lost your entire family to the Thalmor but then joined up with their murderers?” He looked at her in disbelief.

She sighed but nodded, “Something like that. I told you before I believed in their ideals, that doesn’t change just because people I loved died.”

“Those ideals killed your family.” He challenged, “What would they think if they knew?”

“Mara says they understood. That I’ve been forgiven.” She admitted in a near whisper, she could no longer meet his eyes or even face him. Her heart was fluttering as she danced around the truth trying to avoid the inevitable path this conversation was leading them down. “The ideals killed no one, it was a bunch of Thalmor who misinterpreted the ideals or twisted them to suit their purposes. Just like Bastillion twists the authority the Empire gives him to get personal revenge on elves based on his hatred and ignorance.”

“Still though, I do not know if I could possibly serve the Empire if they had done that to my family.” 

“And what, waste your talents?” She smirked, “What would you do then? Lead a rebellion to overthrow them? We tried that you know. That is how we got decimated.”

He sighed, “So you joined them to save your neck?”

“No. I joined them before the rebellion.” She answered quietly, waiting for the shoe to drop. She should have stopped this conversation when it started, should have changed the topic, hell she should do so now, but it was too late. It was too late and it had been eating at her all these years. If nothing else she owed this man honesty, then she could finally be even with him.

His head turned to her fast, “What? You were in the Thalmor at the beginning? You killed your own people?”

She bit her lip and nodded, “Not from the very start, the rebellion was already underway but it hadn’t reached us just yet when I joined.”

“Is that how your family died, when the Thalmor reached your hometown did you slay your own family?” He asked in a hard tone.

“Most of my extended family were already dead at that point, it was just my parents and I but no I did not wield the sword that slew them.” Her throat tightened and her eyes began to burn. She drew her knees to her chest, “But it is my fault they’re dead, I miss them everyday.”

An unbearable silence fell unbroken for the longest time, “The priest, Edinoch, he said something about your parents, said it was not his story to tell.”

She nodded, “Yes I’ve gone to the temple every week to pray to Stendarr for mercy for what I have done. Not that it brought me any comfort but I suppose I don’t deserve it.” 

“Tell me what happened.” He demanded in a soft tone, a hint of judgment and anger in his voice.

“I was just a teenager then but I was already so unruly and moody. Very stubborn and headstrong. Mother and I began to argue a lot, I was always more of a daddies girl. There was a lot of fighting and what was left of our family barely talked, it felt very disjointed but we stuck together because of the Thalmor. Everyone was scared, besides me. I had seen them one day you know. I loved to roam the lands, some days I’d stay gone for weeks camping out in the woods wherever my feet had taken me, I probably know Summerset better than anybody. Mother and Father used to get so angry when I came home, they were furious, I drove my father to grey hair you know, he used to worry every second I was gone even though he had trained me to be able to defend myself.” Her voice was thick as she stared unblinkingly into the flame trying to separate herself from her feelings even as the memories swam into the forefront of her mind.

“One time I saw a group of soldiers marching down the road, they looked strong, and proud. Fearsome really, you could feel the magic emanating from them. It impressed me so much I followed them and watched as they raided a town known to house the rebellion on occasion. Those people never stood a chance against the Thalmor but they tried. When they left I decided to go look around the town, see if there were any survivors or souvenirs I could take.”

“Souvenirs? You wanted souvenirs after watching the Thalmor kill an entire town of your own people?” He asked sharply, his lip curled with disgust.

“Yes. I searched the bodies, I took all the gold I could find on them, and a few trinkets, mostly from the Thalmor. I decided to try to follow them again, so I began in the direction they left. A few miles outside of the town I heard a noise from the trees beside the road, I went to see what it could be, it sounded like a wounded animal but it was a Thalmor. He was injured terribly, he had been tended to but the wounds were terrible, they thought he’d die anyway and didn’t want him to slow them down so they tossed him into the woods and left him.” She breathed in deeply, “He was so handsome. I will never forget that, it was the first thing I noticed. Even bloody and dying in the dirt he was beautiful. I knew alchemy well by then, so I treated him enough to move him farther into the woods. I was afraid if anyone saw him they’d hurt him, I put up my tent by a stream, started a fire and began brewing potions. I healed him over the course of a week and he was finally strong enough to leave. We had talked of course, he refused to tell me his name but I was so…smitten with him that I had told him everything.” She flushed. 

“I left to go back home, my parents were more angry than I’ve ever seen them when I showed up with blood soaked clothes. My father had me in a bone-crushing hug for hours it seemed as my mother screamed on and on. I had never seen my father cry until that day, I had been gone nearly two months that time and they thought I had died. I felt terrible so I decided to stay put for a while, I couldn’t imagine putting my Father through that again. A few weeks later there came a knock at the door, at midnight no less. Mother pulled me into the closet to hide then went to grab a sword and Father answered the door. It was a couple of Thalmor agents, they swept into the house and searched for me but my father had spelled the door invisible and they missed it. They said that they were interested in recruiting me. My father said I was much too young yet to be fighting in a war, the agents told my parents it wasn’t a request but a demand and when they saw me next they were to bring me to their camp in the valley just over the hill. They left and so did we soon after.”

She glanced his way and found him looking at her she abruptly averted her eyes as a hot wave of shame washed over her. The things he did to her she could never understand, “My parents were not supporters of the Thalmor, they hated them in fact but they didn’t want to risk joining or helping the rebellion because it would make them targets. They sat back to protect me even when their own kin was killed but I made them targets. My parents moved, we never stayed anywhere more than a few months. We’d always find little evidence of the Thalmor having found us and then pack up and make a run for it. I got tired of it, and angry. The more cooped up we were together the more Mother and I argued, it didn’t help that we had different political views. I favored the Thalmor. I believed in their mission, but my Mother and Father were solidly against everything they stood for. Eventually it brewed over into the biggest fight we ever had, Mother was baking when the argument began and eventually it just got out of hand. We both lost our tempers. She hit me as hard as she could in the head with a rolling pin she had been using. It felt like my head had been bashed in, blood just poured and spurted out of me like a fountain. I was on the floor in agony, my father was screaming at my mother who was crying and yelling about how she didn’t mean it. My father cradled me as he healed me and cleaned me up, he was always the best at restoration magic. I was physically fine but the damage had been done. I left in the middle of the night and took myself to the valley many miles away by now.”

“I joined the Thalmor that night and led them to my parents home. They were deemed traitors for defying the Thalmor’s command, I led them right to the door and opened it for them. A dozen Thalmor swept in my house as I waited outside and dragged my parents out. They forced my mother and father to their knees and read out their execution orders. I tried to plead for my Fathers life, I told them to kill my mother. I spun tales about how she had forced us to run that Father and I were loyal, but they did not believe me. They executed them both as I watched and then took me to a training facility, they called it a ‘school of finer education’ and my journey in the Thalmor began.”

Tears blurred her vision, she could still see her father kneeling in front of her. Could still hear his last words, “I love you.” Divines, how she missed him. She missed her mother too but she missed her father the most. He had spent the most time with her, teaching her, playing with her, traveling with her. She looked just like him, a fact she had always been very proud of. And in the end she had killed him. She blinked away the tears but the raw and gaping wound in her heart remained. She held her breath in anticipation of his reaction, she waited for the melt down, the explosion that surely would come with someone as self-righteous as the General but he remained silent and somehow that was much worse. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, she knew he must be staring at her with disgust and outrage.

Another long silence followed however until finally he spoke, “Why did they want you? You were just a child.”

“They were short on healers, apparently the agent I healed went back and told them everything. I had trained under my father for years I was one of the best alchemists in my town and my father was a master with restoration magic he trained me in that as well. I wasn’t as good as he was but I was good enough to be called on for services within my village when people couldn’t afford the treatments from licensed healers.” She answered her voice thick and strained with grief. Her head was bowed and face hidden by her hair, too ashamed to face him. 

She waited for the ax to fall, for his judgment to rear up and attack her but instead a warm and rough hand enveloped hers and he repeated in a soft tone, “You were just a child.” The tears rose again, unbidden and intrusive as he held her hand gently. She curled herself inward knowing she didn’t deserve such kindness but he merely gripped her hand tighter. Her fingers wrapped around his as she wept silently. His compassion had opened a floodgate within her that she didn’t know how to patch and she held onto his hand with all her might. “I’m sorry.” She moaned in a tiny voice.

“I have seen many things in war Gadheriel, your story is only one in thousands. It was terrible but you could not have comprehended fully the consequences of your actions. I’ve seen grown men with the belief that they are invincible and nothing bad could happen to them. Tell me if you could go back and do it differently would you?” He asked quietly.

She jerked her head up and looked at him for the first time in many minutes, “Of course I would, I would never have betrayed my family. I would give anything to have them back!”

He nodded, “I hear that a lot as well. You must not continue punishing yourself for this.” 

She sniffled and nodded weakly, “I do not know how. I killed my own family, how can one redeem themselves from that?”

“Honor them by doing what they wish. I am sure they wouldn’t want you to feel such guilt forever over this. They’d want you to be happy.” He squeezed her hand.

“Why are you being so kind to me? You should be angry with me, disgusted by me.” She said quietly, suspicion creeping into her voice.

He sighed, “I find I can not fault you for your actions as a child. What you did disturbs me, but I have known many good woman and men who have done similar and sometimes worse things than you. I have fought alongside them, they were honorable just as much as I am.” He paused for just a second, “I also found that your magic hurts when you get defensive or feel threatened.”

She snorted despite her tears and she squeezed his hand in return, “I’m sorry for hurting you. I was just angry and then very frightened. It reminded me of—of the day you found me.”

He took a deep breath in, “I know, I’m sorry, it didn’t occur to me especially when I was angry. It was not my intent.” 

“S’alright.” She poured herself a glass of wine and refilled his, she took a sip and relaxed, still refusing to give up his hand. It felt nice in hers, his hands were warm but rough, they were not very large like a nords but covered hers with ease. It had been a long time since someone had comforted her like this. He had held her but that was out of a mere panic response this felt much more personal and intimate. She shook her head as she continued to drink, she should not be thinking this way about this man. He was no elf, even if she wished he was. He had saved her life, taken care of her, hid her from her own people at great risk, had taken her abuse and stood up to her to help her and now he was comforting her. It was all just too bizarre for her, she chuckled a little. “When they stationed me in Skyrim I never envisioned that I’d be hiding from my people in an abandoned tower drinking wine and holding the hand of the Imperial’s General.” 

A smile floated across his face, “Yes well, I assure you it wasn’t in my plans either. Who knew a Thalmor and an Imperial can get along without killing each other?”

“There is still time.” She said taking a handkerchief out of her pocket and cleaning off her face, his hand slid from hers. She rubbed her warm heavy eyes.

“You could just fall into my trap to become an ally—”

“Oh not this again General, I am not going to betray my people!” She smiled at him though, “And you think I am stubborn.”

“I never said I wasn’t.” He commented.

She poured herself another drink, “Now that I’ve told you of my parents I dare say you should tell me of yours.”

“Ah, it’s not quite as dramatic as yours. My father was a soldier and my mother a seamstress. They were loving parents, my father was often absent from my life and I missed him terribly but we spent all his free time together. My Mother was the strict one, like yours. My father was killed in a battle long ago leaving my mother widowed to take care of a teenage son. I began working to help support us and then I followed in my Father’s footsteps much to my mother’s displeasure. She died ten years after I joined the Legion, she got very sick one winter and never recovered. I was stationed pretty far away at the time and couldn’t get back for the funeral. After that I threw myself into my duties and here I am.” 

“To think the most infuriating and confusing man I know is so normal.” She breathed out with a faux-offended tone, holding back a yawn and blinking tiredly.

He smiled, “I think my soldiers would disagree, they think I am quite mad.”

She smiled back at him as her eyes grew heavy, exhausted from the emotion and wine she struggled to keep them open. She shut them just to rest them for a while, for many minutes they sat in a comforting silence just listening to the fire crackle. Through a dark haze she felt the wine glass being taken from her hand and someone lifting her from the chair. She was cradled against someone’s chest, the swaying of the person walking with her lulled her more deeply into the dark haze until she was aware of nothing.

* * *

She still weighed next to nothing he noted as he carefully laid her on the bed and threw a few blankets over her to ward off the chill in the tower. He ran his fingers through his short hair and sighed, he hadn’t expected the night to go so easily. He was used to the elf being obstinate and argumentative, but it seemed something shifted that he couldn’t put his finger on. The conversation had been almost pleasant, he found it strange to be so comfortable around a Thalmor. It was true they didn’t know each other well or for very long but he felt connected to her in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. It had been too long since he had someone to confide in or who dared confide in him outside matters of war. His whole life had revolved around the Legion and the good of the Empire, whatever friends he made were soldiers or allies to his Emperor, rarely did he have the time or the want to make any personal associations. He had seen far too much in his lifetime, he had witnessed heinous acts, men reaching for power at all costs, the very worst of people but he had also witnessed the best: valor, honor, courage. Yet it was all in the name of war, he didn’t know how to live a normal civilian life any longer. He had resigned himself to the lifestyle he had chosen long ago, but that night it felt almost like two friends were having drinks and catching up with each others lives. He shook his head, it made no sense and while he had enjoyed the moment he worried what it would mean.

They were enemies after all, on different sides of the war, undoubtedly they’d face each other on the battlefield one day and they’d be force to kill each other. Would he falter to harm her, or perhaps watch as she fell to one of his own men? The idea was disquieting even as impossible as she could be. She had a fire in her, a depth of emotion he didn’t think elves were capable of, compassion for others not of her own kind. He rubbed his aching chest reminding him how powerful she was, far stronger than any of the battle mages the Empire had and she was so very painfully beautiful. Old though he may be he could still appreciate a fine looking woman when he saw one, and she was one of the most stunning. She was so thin she looked fragile, like the merest touch would shatter her but she was a glass cannon. He even found her crooked smile and the faint scar across her lips endearing. He turned away from her and peered around the room, carefully and quietly going through the chests because at the end of the day she was still an enemy combatant regardless of how beautiful she was or how much he had come to appreciate about her. 

He moved from room to room searching for any information on the Thalmor no matter how little or seemingly insignificant it may be when he came across a small chest full of scrolls. He unraveled them one by one realizing slowly that they were thinly veiled targets to be taken care of, he knew some of the names from his travels. They were prominent citizens in Skyrim, and all very crucial to both sides of the war. He frowned as he spread them out, both Imperial-supporters and Stormcloak-Supporters were listed. If the elves took them out the war would be crippled but still going ferociously. It was just enough to make it difficult but not impossible, it would merely draw the war out longer. His eyes hardened as he found a scrap of parchment and began copying down the names of the targets. The Thalmor were playing both sides, trying to draw out the war to weaken both the Empire and Skyrim so they could take both out with ease, he’d have to do his best to check on the people mentioned without drawing the attention of the Thalmor. He folded his notes and stuck it in his pocket he peered angrily at her bedroom door, did that elf know what the Thalmor were doing? Did she choose not to tell him so he could send more of his people into this messy war to die so her own kind could finally take over? The Thalmor were pitting the humans against each other and letting them pick each other off while they waited in the wings to swoop down when the winner of the dog fight was most vulnerable.

He couldn’t explain why he was so disgusted and angry with her, it was not unexpected. He knew she was an enemy, in fact he could almost admire the strategy from an objective viewpoint. He certainly wouldn’t confide in the enemy if the Empire was going to strike at the elves, so why did it enrage him so much? Why did it feel like he had been stabbed in the back when she had done nothing but her job? His lip curled in a suppressed snarl as he thought about their pleasant night together, at how the atmosphere had relaxed and opened up, his guard had gone down and so, he thought, had hers, but had that been part of the plan? Had all of it been part of a scheme? The elves were great at scheming and implementing those schemes. They were smart, clever, cunning and manipulative. For all he knew she could have been caught on purpose, after all what kind of a coincidence was it that at the time he set out for Ivarstead she also set out? The elves had dossiers on all the higher level military leaders in the Empire, it would not take much to deduce that he would save her and she could weasel her way into his good graces enough so his defenses would go down. Her orders could very well have been ‘Befriend General Tullius’. He clenched his fists and breathed deeply. He sounded paranoid, he knew it. Perhaps it was far-fetched, but how much more far-fetched than a Thalmor agent being jumped upon and held for days by a handful of Stormcloaks? 

He shook his head, it made no sense and if he confronted her with it she’d lie, they’d argue and in the end he’d gain nothing but lose the upper hand in this cat and mouse game of war. The silence of the tower was suddenly broken by a high-pitched agonized scream, his hand immediately going for his blade. He unsheathed it and ran towards her bedroom. He burst in expecting to find any number of enemies attacking her but the room was still dark and empty. She lay writhing violently on the bed as she screamed, he slid his blade back into its sheath and sighed with relief. Just a nightmare. She had had these often enough the first few days she had been unconscious and a few nights after waking up. He hadn’t realized she was still being plagued by them, though why he thought anyone could fully recover from what had been done to her within two weeks he didn’t know. He approached the bed carefully not wanting to get kicked or otherwise harmed by her flailing limbs. He carefully laid his hand on her arm and shook her to no avail, “Gadheriel!” He yelled as he shook her harder, “Wake up, it’s just a dream. It isn’t real, you’re safe now. Come on, Gadheriel!” He gave her one last hard shake and her eyes flew open.

He had expected fear or shock, perhaps even confusion but when her eyes fell on his they grew even more terrified. “No! Please! Get away from me!” She shrieked desperately, she kicked him in the stomach and scrambled to the other side of the bed, leaning against the wall. Her eyes flitted to the exit as she hyperventilated. “Leave me alone! Get out!! Please don’t hurt me, don’t take them!” He grunted as the air was knocked out of him and his stomach spasmed.

Her eyes were wild with panic, tears sliding down her face, his chest tightened at the thought of her being so terrified of him. “Calm down, I will not hurt you.”

She looked at him confused for a bit, her eyes shifting around the room rapidly taking her surroundings in. He watched as she slowly came back to the present. He took a step forward and reached his hand out to her but she flinched violently. He froze at her reaction, “Gadheriel?” he questioned softly, “It’s alright.” 

She sniffled, “No it’s not.” She moaned out between breathy sobs, “I’ll n-never be normal again. Look at me, I’m a mess.” 

“It’s only been a week, no one would be okay that quickly.” 

“Then I am no good!” She spat out, her voice dripping with disdain and self-hatred.

“That is not true.” His voice was hard as steel as he sat on the large king-sized bed, she pulled her knees to her chest. He felt a hollow pang resonate within him at the image of her small body folded into such a childlike position. “Do you want to tell me?”

She remained silent for a long while, he could see the flood of emotions going across her face and the tug of war happening in her mind but in the end she said, “In my dream I killed my parents and the Thalmor were so upset that I killed two well-bred elves that they sent me to you for punishment. Y-you clipped my ears. You took my elven ears and made them human.” She let out a heart-rending sob and covered her face with her hands, “I’m sorry!”

His heart squeezed and he felt a rush of heated shame wash through him as he watched her, how could he possibly think she was conspiring against him? That she had submitted herself to such brutality just to befriend him? “What are you sorry for?” He asked in a hushed tone. 

“I don’t know, I must have done something to-to…I don’t know.” She said in a soft forlorn voice.

She looked so lost and broken in that moment that he could not stand idly by as she fell to pieces in front of him. He slid closer to her until his back rested against the wall and their shoulders touched. “You did nothing wrong.” He took her hands in his like he had before, and she slowly grasped them tightly. “I would never do such a thing to you Gadheriel, never. I know we are on opposite sides of the war and one day we may have to face each other in battle but I give you my word that I would never torture you or allow you to be harmed like that.” 

“You wanted to earlier.” She said in a tiny voice, “When you thought I had harmed that soldier for no reason.”

He tensed, “No Gadheriel. Listen to me, I was angry. I made a wrong assumption and got upset but not once did I ever think to harm you.” He looked at her and said, “Someone can be angry with you and not wish you harm.”

She bit her lip, “I have seen no evidence of that.” 

“You did today.” He replied simply, she nodded tiredly. 

“Maybe.” She admitted reluctantly, it was quiet for a second before, “They beat me, cut me, stabbed me, starved and r-raped me but the worst of it all were my ears. They took my ears. What kind of elf am I now?”

The grief in the room was palpable and invasive, he struggled to breathe through it, “Are you telling me all there is to elves are their ears? So to defeat the Thalmor all I’d need to do is cut off their ears. Interesting theory…” 

She glared at him, “If you so much as touch an elves ears so help me—” 

He raised his hand in surrender and shook his head, “You are missing my point dear, surely there is more to being an elf than having pointy ears. Or are you telling me that any ol’ nord can strap on a costume and be consider a noble of Summerset?”

She looked scandalized at the very thought of it, “Of course not! They wouldn’t even be suited for servants or pets. Even the researchers don’t like using nords for experiments.”

He raised his brows at her, “Experiments?”

“Well we have to test our magicka and alchemy on someone don’t we? We’re hardly going to waste good elven blood on them.” She sniffed quietly looking away from him. 

He sighed and rubbed his nose, “There is so many things wrong with that I can’t begin to list them all.”

“Don’t worry we prefer nords over Imperials. Nords last longer.” She quipped as she rubbed her eyes. 

“We’ve got off the point, which is it is so much more than mere ears that make an elf. You live forever, you have beautiful eyes and silver hair. You’re nearly as tall as a horse but more importantly your people are intelligent, and wield strong magicka like no other. Even your warriors and archers are fierce. You keep history better than anyone else, though that’s probably because you are history. You have told me how important blood is to your people, surely they haven’t taken all your blood and replaced it with nordic blood have they?”

She shook her head, “No.”

“Then tell me how can you not be an elf?” He squeezed her hands a little.

“It just feels…every time I brush my hair or reach up and they’re not…they’re not there I remember. They marked me, as if..if violating me wasn’t enough, they disfigured me forever. I will never be able to fix my ears, they’ll always be like this…a reminder.” She said, “They degraded me, humiliated me…now I am not perfect, I will never reach my potential.”

“You put too much meaning on ears and legends. Is perfection not attainable and therefore the journey more important?” He treaded cautiously upon this ground not sure how his view on their culture and beliefs would go over. He was relieved to see she was thinking about it and not looking like she was going to kill him. 

“Perhaps you are right. I’d need to consult with some of my own priests but maybe you’re right.” She hiccuped and rubbed her eyes once more. 

“Ah, I must remember this moment, a Thalmor has told a human they are right. Surely the heavens should be collapsing any second now.” 

She snorted and then cautiously laid her head on his shoulder. He stiffened at first not used to such intimacy but then slowly relaxed. He was surprised at how open and vulnerable she seemed the last few hours and wondered if anything had happened. She snuggled to him and whispered, “Why do you care so much? Why are you here?” 

The words froze him, he had been searching for the answer to that question for days now and had come up with nothing. How could he explain something to her that he had no idea of himself? By all rights he shouldn’t care, he shouldn’t be this way with a Thalmor, with anyone. It was not safe or smart in the least but he couldn’t help but be around her. “I don’t know.” He heard himself say. He cringed but at least he was honest, he took a breath in, “I can not explain it. I have not been friends with anyone in a long time. By all rights we should be trying to kill each other right now. You infuriate me, but in a good way I suppose. I could ask the same of you, after all I am just a man.”

She smiled a little, “Well at least you said it was a good way I won’t have to kick your ass again.” She relaxed completely against him and yawned tiredly, “You are but you are less intolerable than the rest.”

He snorted, a smile stretching across his lips, “I believe I should be thanking you for that, oh high and mighty elf.”

“Perhaps but you have kept me grounded. When everything else went wrong it was a man who stepped up to pull me away from imminent implosion and self-destruction. I will never forget that, even if I feel like wringing your neck sometimes.” She yawned again and her eyes began to close. “And you are here now, offering me comfort and advice. I do not see an elf of any sort here. Just you and that’s enough for now.” She breathed in and out deeply, sighing sleepily, her eyes shut. 

She was warm against his side and her hair smelled of lavender. He could feel its softness against his neck, like silk. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and held her to him in silence, not knowing how to respond to that. He sat and held her for a while, it had been a long time since he had held a woman. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the simple warmth in holding someone, there was a sort of comfort and belonging in doing so that soothed him. He remained there until his back began to hurt and then he slowly slid them away from the wall and laid her down once more. She stirred a little as he threw a blanket over her.

“If only you were an elf.” She whispered sleepily. 

“What?” he asked but when he looked at her more closely he realized she had went back to sleep, leaving him to ponder what she had meant.


	6. The Journey: Dawnstar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates! This will probably be my posting schedule now (10-14 days). The chapters are going to get longer for a while, anything with "The Journey" in the title will be far longer than my usual chapters. 
> 
> I have taken a single line from the Witcher Netflix Series which will be marked by two **  
> And direct lines from Skyrim itself which will be marked by one *  
> Because the creators of those words were not me :D
> 
> Bethesda owns everything really.

  
The week had passed without incident, in fact she thought it was actually rather pleasant. Her days had been spent researching Saarthal and Falmer, and her evenings spent before the fire making conversation with the now fully recovered General; it was all a bit too picturesque to keep her satisfied for very long but it was a nice break from her usual days. She had spent a few weeks in Solitude, far more than she ever wanted to but now she was ready to get on the road. She had been packing for what seemed like hours trying to think of what was absolutely needed and what could be left behind. She always had a bad habit of wanting to bring an entire house with her, she had spent the better part of the morning repacking the one bag she’d be able to cart around on the long journey. The Emissary’s Journal was one of the first items in her pack as was parchment, ink and quills, along with varying potions and ingredients. She had also packed two small daggers and a weeks worth of clothing. She had a small satchel with fruit and bread, anything else she could hunt during the journey. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of skinning and cleaning a dead animal, perhaps she could hire a mercenary to go with her. The idea was instantly squashed the moment it popped in her head, it wasn’t very feasible for a multitude of reasons, the least of which was her own safety with such a person. Excited though she may be she could not deny the trepidation and fear that lurked within her at the prospect of leaving the safety of the city walls. 

She tied her bag closed and began gathering up the many sensitive documents carelessly left behind by her colleagues. There were tons of little scraps of parchment and scrolls listing targets and plans, even more plentiful were handwritten notes describing ancient magicka’s the lesser races had forgotten. Most likely anyone attempting such magicka would fail catastrophically, it would do no good for the slim possibility of them succeeding and using the Thalmor’s own weapons against them. She dumped the chests, sacks and loose parchment all over both chairs and with a lazy flick of her wrist the fire in the hearth roared to life. Piece by piece she fed the parchment into the fire, there was something relaxing about watching the flames slowly glide across the parchment but her peaceful musings were cut short by the door swinging open. She turned her head sharply, her heart hammering, only to see the General closing the door. She scowled, “You do not live here you know, you could knock like a proper, polite being.” 

“As I recall you do not live here either.” He mentioned with an amused look on his face, she huffed and turned back to the task at hand. “What are you doing anyway?”

“Well it’s funny you ask. You know that night I had the terrible nightmare and you woke me up?” She looked up at him as he nodded, “The next morning I found a small chest containing sensitive information moved just a few fractions of an inch from where it sat before. At first I thought someone may have kicked it or knocked something into it but then when I took the scrolls out they were no longer in the proper order.” She looked at him almost expectantly but when he said nothing she just sighed, “I understand why you did but I guess I expected you to have the decency to give me the same respect I afforded you while I was a guest in Castle Dour. Obviously I expected too much and so now I am simply removing any temptation which I should have done when I moved in here.”

An awkward silence fell over them, until finally he spoke up, “There is a war going on outside these walls, if breaking your trust saves lives than I shall.”

“Not all lives are worth saving General, otherwise there would be no war would there?” She replied calmly, she shook head unable to muster up the emotion it would take for her to argue heatedly with him. When she had discovered the slight betrayal she was irate and slightly resentful but a part of her could not fault him for it. She’d have done the same thing if their positions had been reversed, she had thought of it enough in Castle Dour but there had been too many people and circumstances hadn’t given her an opportunity. What irritated her most was that she had allowed it to happen through sheer negligence, it was just another piece of evidence that she wasn’t at her best any longer.

“Worshiping a god you do not deem worthy is hardly justification to take a life.” He said as his eyes roamed over the documents littering the chairs and floor. She eyed him and pulled the largest chest to her and continued her destruction.

“A man you mean. No man can become a god just by killing a bunch of people to satisfy a hunger for power.” She said coldly, “Your logic is flawed, would you defend daedra worshipers from us as well? Or do you see our prosecution of them as just because it fits your agenda as well?”

“Talos worship does not harm anyone unlike those that worship the daedra. Comparing the two is faulty logic at best.” His hands were on his hips, she nearly laughed at the sight of him. He looked like the General he no longer was, commanding, demanding, strong, and intelligent. 

“It harms no one you say? So you aren’t fighting a war with an extremist named Ulfric Stormcloak?” She raised her brow at him.

Tullius scoffed, “That man cares nothing about Talos, he is simply using the cause to spread enough dissent to get what he really wants: The throne.” 

“Ah yes, using the name of a power hungry man to gain power for yourself.” She replied smoothly, “It matters not if he is insincere the mere fact he is justifying harming others by using Talos is enough. Imagine a world where Talos wasn’t considered a god, I wonder what he’d use then. I also assure you those under him are quite sincere about Talos and murdering in his name.” 

“There was no violence until the Thalmor destroyed the shrines and began rounding up worshipers like sheep to the slaughter.” His soft voice carried over to her. 

“The nords are an uncivilized people. They solve their problems like animals in the wild do, with violence and death. They are barely educated, and spend most of their time beating their chests to show how tough they are like apes and glorifying Tiber Septim for being able to beat his chest the loudest. If one didn’t know any better you’d think they’d have just evolved from animals a few generations before but that is what happens when you leave men on their own, secluded and isolated from more advanced civilizations. Imperials are more advanced than these nords are. They saw the futility in killing each other and decided to turn towards more worthy endeavors and past times but even your lot couldn’t be bothered to help civilize the nords after all these years. In fact your people couldn’t be bothered with much outside of yourselves. You may have conquered Tamriel but when things went downhill for those that you conquered you didn’t lift a finger because they weren’t precious Imperials. You killed and slaughtered them til they bowed to you then left them to fend for themselves if anything went wrong. Obviously you all can’t be trusted to do anything for anyone else but yourselves, so yes the Thalmor had to step in.” Her mouth was flooded with the tangy and sour taste of bitter resentment. 

His mouth was set in a thin line, his back stiffened and his arms crossed, “The Empire did everything they could for _all_ of their people, we may have failed but it wasn’t for the lack of effort or care.”

“Who are you trying to fool Tullius? You all ignored the Thalmor’s rising because it was convenient for you to do so and look how that turned out for you. And what of the Dark Elves hmm? What did your kind do for them? Nothing.” She hissed, her chest tightened as anger shook her hands. She fed documents into the fire more rapidly, gritting her teeth. 

“The Thalmor are no better, in fact I’d say they are worse.” He replied coldly.

She turned to him, a strange cold emptiness seeping through her, “Men are a bunch of pathetic hypocrites. Nords hate elves, they always have since the days of Ysgramor and the Falmer. They thought the proper response to one villages death was the total extinction of the Snow elves, a complete genocide. Even though they were guests in this land. It was not theirs, they landed here. The elves allowed them to stay instead of fighting them off. We both know had the elves wanted to land in Atmora the nords would have killed them immediately. Now to this day the nords hate elves for that, nords who weren’t alive then, didn’t know anyone alive then. Who couldn’t even tell you a single thing about any of their ancient ancestors. Hell they couldn’t even tell you their proper names. And yet they carry on millenia later in their ignorant racism, justifying murdering elves over people they didn’t know. Yet when a nord named Tiber Septim comes around for another genocide of elves, it is seen as alright and we’re supposed to accept it. We’re not suppose to take offense or gather our own forces, elves who do remember, who were there, who actually knew those who died or lived through it. Right. It’s the whole pointy-ear thing again, isn’t it? Tell me why men think they are better than elves when for the majority of the time they’ve spent on Tamriel all they’ve brought is violence and death? And yet my people who were busy being snobs, studying magicka, refining their artistic abilities and tending to beautiful gardens are the ones slaughtered, and then constantly blamed for the ills of men that created their own problems by the lifestyle they choose to live. We’re the ones portrayed as evil. Right. Of course, silly me. Us ridiculous Thalmor having enough of men’s violence and wars destroying the lands and our people, what are we thinking? I refuse to feel bad for hypocritical nords who can not stand a taste of their own medicine. If they do not like when the tables are turned perhaps they should set it differently.” 

With an angry burning in her chest that was slowly traveling to her face she turned back to the fire and began throwing piece after pierce of parchment in with a violent fervor. “The Thalmor are visiting their anger on those who have done nothing to them.”

“Perhaps the Imperials have a more valid reason to complain in that vein, but the nords of today? Please, they are still as racist, hateful and violent as Ysgramor, and if left unchecked will simply commit more atrocities against elven people. Tiber Septim was a nord after all, should we wait around to continue being slaughtered? That would be easy for Imperials to say after all, it doesn’t effect them.” She sneered, her throat burned as did her eyes, the sheer amount of bitter rage inside of her was stifling. 

He sighed, “The Thalmor, the nords, all of it is just creating a cycle of violence that is never going to end. One side is going to have to concede their righteous anger in order to bring peace.”

She scoffed, “Yes, so of course naturally it has to be my people, because we’re just elves so who cares right? Nevermind that over the entire course of history it has been elven dead with the higher body county, it has been elves who have generally kept to themselves until men decide to pick fights by killing our kind, invading our lands, torturing our people then they turn it around like they’re victims and the elves are evil people hell bent on the destruction of any not their kind, projecting much? But you’re right, obviously it should be us that has to concede.” 

“Elves are not fully innocent in history either, as I am sure you are aware but bitterness and anger get us no place. It will just lead our people back to where we are now, again and again.” He said quietly, “It may have to be the elves who concede, not because it is fair they do so but because they are the ones intelligent enough to see the pattern and understand what must be done to stop history from continually repeating itself.”

“We have seen it, that is why the Thalmor exist. We will make things right, one way or another. You’ve all had your chance at trying to make things better and all you’ve done is make things so much worse. It’s our turn now.” The heat in her face and chest was slowly burning out, the tightness in her throat was dissipating and she was forcing her breath to be more steady and slow. He was right about one thing, they were obviously the only ones intelligent enough to handle this.

“I thought we were past this.” He said, his voice lined with exasperation.

“ _We_ , as in you and I, are past it. I harbor no ill will towards you. You are…different than what I expected. It gives me some slight hope that there is the possibility of other redeemable humans. We shall see.” She mentioned, “Perhaps you’d be able to point me in the right direction, hm?” She smiled back at him as her shoulders relaxed. His shoulders fell and his arms uncrossed after a while as he just shook his head in amazement. 

“I will never understand how elves can get angry almost instantly but then diffused so easily.” He commented.

She laughed, “Well the nords think we are glass you know, I guess it fits.” Of course it was far easier to admit that giving her people any sort of credit was by far the easiest way to diffuse her, and some of her colleagues. It was almost embarrassing how much feeding their egos managed to soothe them, especially in the case of men, but thankfully not many were like the General. Or perhaps if they were their people could get along better, she looked at him and shook her head wondering what was possessing her to consider his words. 

“Glass ballista more like.” He commented with a thoughtful look on his face as he peered at her. 

“So why are you here than? I highly doubt you came to hear me rant about nords again.” She said as she pulled the next chest of scrolls over to her. 

She could hear him shifting back and forth, “You’re leaving today, where else would I be?”

“Doing whatever Bastillion told you to do like a good doggy.” She replied flippantly, a small smirk forming on her lips though she knew he wouldn’t be able to see it.

He huffed, “Hardly. I am a General of an army if I were seen to not follow orders how could my own people follow my orders?” When she looked back at him he had his hands on his hips once more. “I am here to follow through on my new orders that just came last night.”

Her eyes narrowed and she pulled all the boxes and chests of parchment towards her, “You’re not touching any of them.” She said in a dangerous tone.

“Have you ever thought about asking for more information before jumping to conclusions and making assumptions?” he asked lightly as he held up a large scroll with a broken imperial seal on it. “I am to go with you.”

Her brow furrowed, “What?” She said in surprise and confusion, “How can that even be? How do they know I am here? What did you tell them!? Don’t you know that the Thalmor often—” She stopped as he held up his hands.

“I did not mention you by name or station, only that there is a traveling Thalmor that I have become friendly with and now that I am on leave I would find it much more beneficial to the Empire to go with you than act as a manservant to Bastillion.”

“Under what pretense?” She said suspiciously, “I highly doubt that the Emperor gave you leave to follow a friend around Skyrim for the fun of it.”

“No I had to…dress it up a bit more than that. Make it seem much more nefarious.” 

“So spying on me? Trying to weasel information out of me? Swaying me to the side of the Imperials?” She raised her brow.

“Something like that.” He nodded quietly. 

She scowled, “And you’re telling me this to what? Gain my trust? It defeats your purposes doesn’t it, now that I am aware of your little plot?”

“Some may argue that but you already trust me don’t you? So had I hidden this it would just, eventually, destroy that trust which would hinder me far more than divulging it would. I like the plan with the least amount of casualties.” 

She sighed, “I suppose I have no choice in the matter?” She replied haughtily but inside she was relieved much to her own consternation. There was no reason she should feel that way. She could defend herself, and her job would be so much more difficult with the Imperial General at her side the entire time. She groaned at the thought, how could she possibly get any real sense of things with him tagging along?

“You could always say no, but I think you’d find me following behind you regardless.” 

“Why are you doing this? Can you not just let me be? I have a job to do.” She said angrily, she wanted to do this on her own, as nervous as she was she wanted to prove to herself if no one else that she was still capable of holding her own and being a proper elf. 

“And so do I. Like I said earlier, this is war.” He said stiffly.

“Do not act like that has anything to do with this!” She said standing up and folding her arms over her chest. “The Thalmor have been here for months and yet you have never decided to spy on us before. And I am supposed to be okay with this?” 

“Before I never had a chance to leave my post. I do not see the problem, nothing between us will change. I thought that you might like company on the journey since you still fear leaving the city walls.” He said softly.

She scowled at him and kicked the entire chest into the fire causing an eruption of sparks and embers. “I am not a defenseless child, I can take care of myself, I am not so pathetic and weak that I need some _man_ to protect me and fight for me!” 

He ran a hand over his hair, his eyes resigned, “Must you make everything so difficult? I was trying to be helpful.” He looked at her for a moment and she could not understand the emotions going across his face, “I do not wish to stay here either, but I can not leave without permission from the Emperor, which requires a mighty good reason to do so. I just thought it would be nice to get out of Solitude and do something useful instead of being a servant and if I could help along the way fine. I see though you are still determined to take everything the worst possible way.”

She looked away, the heat of her anger turning to a burning shame. She did have a bad habit of assuming the worst about everything and everyone but that was usually how it went, if she expected the best she’d be sorely disappointed more often than not. Still, the man before her had never shown her ill will for the most part and she still couldn’t get out of the mindset but it was more than that. It was her own feeling of incompetence and inadequacy that spurred her reactions she knew that, but it was so easy to lash out, if she was angry than she could use that energy to prove them all wrong in defiance. Otherwise the fear and paranoia had a much louder voice than it should, she wished she could get rid of it but it seemed to determined to stay put. She wondered if it would always be with her, she scowled at the floor at the thought but then breathed out heavily. “Very well, we shall leave together then.” She said stiffly, chewing on her bottom lip.

He seemed surprised for a second but nodded, “My bags are packed, I am ready whenever you are.”

She nodded, “Let me finish here than we shall go.” She turned back and set the rest of the chests in the middle of the fireplace and hurled an explosive ball of fire at them, conjuring up a ward to protect both her and the General as the inferno blazed hot and stone flew from the fireplace upon impact. She watched for many minutes as parchment and scrolls burned to ash before being satisfied all was destroyed. She gathered her bag and provisions and motioned him out. She cast a spell over the door warding it strongly against any further intrusion made by any of non-elven blood before setting out towards the gates. She felt a tug at her chest as the city’s gates opened and she stared down the long and winding path bordered with tall trees. She grasped her bag tightly in her fist and breathed in deeply. Now that the moment was here the dread came back to her full force. 

“Sure you don’t want me to leave you on your own now?” The General said in a flippant tone.

She sucked a breath in and glared at him, “I am fine. If simple men can wander around this retched land and live to tell about it any elf can do so as well.” She raised her nose and strode out of the city with purpose. She completely missed the victorious and amused smile on the General’s face as she did so, instead choosing to focus on the sound of the gates closing. 

“Well where to first?”

“You decided to come along with no idea where you were going? Typical human.” She said with disdain, he snorted but covered it with a cough. “We’ll head down to Whiterun first then cut across to Ivarstead I never quite made it there.” She peered at him still wondering how she was going to get her work done with him next to her. 

“I suppose we don’t have any horses?” He sighed.

“We must go off path, I hardly think horses would do much good through narrow passes and over rocky mountains. Perhaps we can commandeer some at Whiterun.” She shrugged, smirking as he groaned.

“I’m far too old for this.” He sulked.

“You’re too old? Please, I’m two hundred and fifty-seven.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah but that is like what twenty-five in human years?” He scoffed.

“No. It is like being two hundred and fifty-seven. Physically perhaps it is similar, so long as one hasn’t been injured I suppose, but in every other regard it is like being two hundred and fifty-seven.” She replied with an air of exhaustion. She glanced at him to find him lost in thought at her words. “Why do you think we are a jaded lot?”

He shrugged, “Never had the time or need to think of it, the Empire has kept me busy. Though it does raise its own ethical issues.”

“At times, but never fear we tear down anyone that doesn’t meet our expectations quite quickly. Power is not so easily kept in the Summerset Isle, even if we live a long time.” She said quietly, “Plenty of our rulers have done something imperfect and paid the price.”

“That seems exhausting, the whole concept of being perfect when it isn’t even achievable and for what? A chance at becoming a god again according to an old legend no one even knows the validity of?” He shook his head, “I will never understand elves. All that power and knowledge and look what you do with it.”

She smiled a little, “Well then perhaps men and elves are not all that different after all. You all live such short and intense lives and look what you do with it..you kill each other and cause each other misery.” She frowned it was a sad truth of existence, no one was ever satisfied. “Perhaps the aedra cursed us when they created us to spite Lorkhan and Lorkhan made you all so violent and elf hating in return…” 

“And Akatosh was so angry at his brethren’s petty behavior and infighting he paid off the daedra to punish and destroy all their creations slowly over time.” He commented playing along with her.

“But little did Akatosh know that the daedra had their own plans to usurp him and steal his powers and the stunted power of the divines. They amassed followers and poisoned their minds. They made compacts and plotted together, all in the hope that one day they would rule over everything.” She turned off the road towards Dawnstar. She planned to stop there first since it was on her list anyhow and perhaps one of the easier Stormcloak holds with the few Imperial soldiers and sympathizers that lived there.

“Unfortunately for the daedra they were their own worst enemies, it was their own meddling and backstabbing that destroyed their efforts. And ever since they’ve each had a go at destroying Lorkhan’s creation or ruling over it but to everyones great surprise it was the inhabitants of Tamriel, the cursed people that defeated each and every one of them.” 

She smiled, “In times of great need and disaster even the people that hated each other could band together against the daedra, so far and wide was their cruelty and evil known that only the dunmer dared to commune with them. Many of which only to appease their horrid gods. And so the daedra sulk in their realms of oblivion plotting domination but knowing, inevitably, they’d fail once more.”

The atmosphere in the northern most reaches of Skyrim was brutal and unforgiving. Icy winds that could freeze a mammoth blew angrily against them, the further northeast they traveled the more they had to lean in to keep upright. Snow whited out everything else making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of them and the snow banks they trudged through were knee-deep and heavy. If not for the cold the exhaustion would have stopped them in their tracks but as it was there was no adequate shelter to be found and no place safe enough to make camp even with a fire it’d be too cold to survive the night outside. Eventually their voices died off in an attempt to conserve their warmth and they slowly drifted closer together until they were nearly walking shoulder to shoulder. 

“We can’t keep going much longer like this, we need to find shelter of some sort.” The General yelled over the wind. 

“Dawnstar is only a few more—” She began until she turned to look at him. He was shivering violently, his face red and his lips cracked. She sighed, men were so much more fragile. “Fine, when we find someplace safe to camp out we will.” She began walking again, “Come on, you don’t want to rest for long it’s best if you keep your circulation going strong.”

She could hear him grumbling as she trudged forward, she gave a chuckle, “Sure you don’t want to go back to Solitude to play secretary?” A smirk growing on her lips, how easily the tables had turned. She took two more steps then stumbled forward with shock as something hard and wet slammed into her back, she swiveled around scowling to see Tullius shaking his gloves off an innocent look on his face. A wicked smile spread across her face as she threw her hands out tendrils of white magic sliding around her fingers. She weaved the magicka in the air and then slammed it into the ground, he looked around him, his brow creasing with foreboding and worry. Suddenly the snow around him on all sides rose up into walls taller than he and closed in on him. The snow wrapped itself around him until he could no longer move, there was only a centimeter between him and the newly formed snow that seemed to fit his body like a suit. She smiled at the large snow man in front of her, Tullius buried within, “I think that’s the best snowman I’ve ever made. Grumpy but still endearing.” 

The snowman begin to shiver in place then wiggle violently until finally the General popped out of it, “That is it! I have had enough of this!” He snarled as he grabbed up two arm fulls of snow and began climbing the nearest tree. The cold all but forgotten in their little war, she tried to follow after him but she was never one for sheer strength, it was a skill that failed her no matter how much she exercised or trained. Her blade skills were terrible, but she was decent enough with a bow, even better with a cross bow. She tried a few times to get up the tree only to fall each and every time, she looked up at him only to receive a snowball in the face. She glared and began pelting her own up at him but he had the better vantage point. She began dodging them as much as she could but he had excellent aim for someone so old and decrepit as he claimed. An idea formed in her mind and she raised her hands casting out a translucent thread of magic that wrapped around him and pulled him from the tree towards her. She cut the magic off when he was a few feet from her and the ground and let him drop down. 

“Surrender old man, you will never win this battle.” She declared with her hands on her hips. 

“This battle isn’t over yet!!” He said vehemently as he rushed towards her, she backpedaled startled. She threw her hands out once more and a large sheet of black ice formed over the snow. She was quite proud of it, ice magic had always been rather difficult for her, it was one of the more difficult elements to master as it was more solid than fluid. Flames and lightning were easier to warp magic into because of it but ice was solid and magic wasn’t. She had been working on it but had only been able to master thin ice or manipulate snow which was more alteration than destruction; still it was progress. She watched as his feet slid out from under him and he began to flail around before falling with a hard thud onto the ice. She laughed as he tried to stand but the incline of the ground began to slide him to the left, downwards. He traveled a few feet before she realized the land ended in a large cliff and he was picking up speed with every passing second. If he didn’t stop he was going to fly off the edge of the cliff. 

A thrill of panic jolted her into movement as she rushed forward, usually she was able to formulate plans and react nearly instantly but ever since the ambush her mind numbed and went blank every time she became truly terrified. She foolishly tried running towards him before realizing she’d never catch up than she even more foolishly hurled some fire towards the ice wincing as he flew through the wall of flames. She threw her arm out causing a wall of snow to break through the ice. It slowed him down enough for her to nearly catch up with him but he burst through the other side easily. He was flailing about trying to find something to grab onto as the edge loomed ever closer, she watched with horror as he flew off the edge of the cliff, an iciness formed in her chest and spread through her body. “NO!” She screamed as she ran forward nearly launching herself off as well even though she made sure to stay away from the ice she formed. 

She saw him hurtling towards the ice covered rocks below with startling speed, she raised both her hands as desperation grasped her heart and threw out another translucent thread, this one thicker. It wrapped around him and he came to an abrupt halt, she nearly gasped in relief but was too scared to do so, afraid she might release him on accident. She could already feel the strain on not only her magic but her muscles as well. Usually an object would come flying at her with no problem, but telekinesis was much more difficult the larger and heavier an item was, and also how far away it was. She had managed it before only because they had been a mere thirty feet apart but this was a much different dynamic and her magic could only sustain a state of levitation. He was stuck dangling on a magical rope. She tried to reel him in but she felt her magic become off kilter, unsteady like a faulty heart beat. She tried to strengthen the spell, sending more of her magicka into it but this only weakened her further and she knew if she spent much more of her power she would no longer have enough to even sustain this state. She couldn’t get him up but perhaps she could lower him, he was closer to the ground than to her. It would still be a risky strain on her to control such a delicate maneuver but there was no other choice.

She lowered herself slowly to kneel on the ground and slowly lowered her hands dropping him another five feet but it was not the smooth motion she had wished it to be rather a choppy one that made him fall and stop with a jerk. She pushed more of her magic to strengthen it once more and lengthen the translucent thread. Her mind concentrating on nothing else until finally after many heart pounding minutes she was able to drop him safely to the ground three feet below him. She gasped for breath gently and sat back on her haunches her head swimming as dizziness took over. She reached in her bag as an exhaustion creeped over her turning her limbs to lead and making her feel detached, like her mind was full of fog and she was far away. She quickly chugged a magicka potion followed by a regeneration one and once the dizziness began to pass she pushed herself off the ground. 

It took her a few seconds to find a path down the steep cliff but when she reached the bottom she rushed over to him, worry etched on her face. He was resting against a large boulder in the snow, she could see his hands shaking as she approached him. He jerked his head up at her, anger in his eyes, “What the hell were you thinking?!” He yelled, his voice shaking a bit.

She bit her lip and shook her hands out blinking tiredly. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“You haven’t wanted me on this trip since I mentioned it, and now here I am alone with no witnesses, the perfect chance for the Thalmor to get rid of me and you want me to believe that a meticulous, superior elf like yourself didn’t even look at her surroundings? Do you think I am stupid?” He shouted throwing his arms about. During his speech he had gotten to his feet, and stepped toward her.

Her jaw tightened, “You’re right I didn’t want you on this trip, if I had wanted to dispose of you I would have been overjoyed by the prospect don’t you think?” She couldn’t explain the wounded feeling that was currently gnawing away at her inside, it felt like he had taken a spoon and began to scoop out her innards through her skin. 

“Not if you were upset about my presence or maybe your orders from the Thalmor are far more delicate than what you’ve told me and my presence would interfere.” He spat out angrily. 

At least he had stopped yelling, she thought. Guilt ate away at her, she had never been so frightened in a long time. She couldn’t explain it, when he went over that edge it felt like her heart had stopped, but why? When had he become so important, so vital to her? He was just a man. She glanced at him quickly, an infuriating, stubborn, slightly paranoid man, with honor, compassion, and strength but still just a man. She shook her head dismayed with her confusing emotions and reactions, not able to comprehend them nor willing to deal with them at the moment. Instead she looked back at him, “I didn’t mean you any harm, but believe what you want, you will anyway regardless of anything else.” The words came out of her mouth before she decided to say anything, why did it bother her that he could think so little of her? Had things changed so drastically to her that it seemed ridiculous to her that she’d harm him? Would she ever harm him, could she? If Elenwen called for his destruction would she be able to follow orders? She ran her own shaking fingers through her hair and breathed in deeply. She couldn’t deal with this right now, they were both cold, wet, tired and now quite miserable. The light-hearted fun of the last few minutes was over and they still needed a place to stay, even more so now as she realized the sky was beginning to get dark and the sun was lowering in the now pink and orange sky. “Leave if you want but not now, you’ll never make it back to Solitude tonight. You’ll freeze, we need to find some place.” 

Without another word she turned away from him and began trudging forward. She kept her eyes opened for any form of shelter, even a tiny cave but there wasn’t much around. It was a battle to keep standing even without the winds that had died down she was completely and utterly exhausted. She glanced behind her at the General who had been careful about keeping out of her reach. She rolled her eyes as if she couldn’t just murder him where he stood, she could have just let him fall and be done with it, none of this seemed to appeal to his flawed paranoid logic. He looked tired as well but the wariness in his eyes kept a spark alive in him that she didn’t have. They had both spent hours walking in terrible cold and running around but she had expended so much of herself saving him that it was truly a struggle to stay upright. The only thing keeping her awake was the dull throbbing in her chest that wouldn’t go away. 

Another half hour passed, the snow banks decreasing in size the further they walked on until her foot fell through the ice that had formed over a small river and her boot filled with ice water. She hissed as she pulled it out only for the ice to crack again and her other foot to fall through, she could hear him snort behind her and when she turned to look at him he was on the bank looking down at her. She shivered as she tried to find thicker ice, both her feet now submerged and slowly turning numb. The small river was only seven feet wide but it felt like it was the width of an entire city. She gave up on her pursuit and began to just wade into the river defeated. Her arms wrapped around herself as the water rose to her waist at its deepest, it took her only a few seconds to cross but when she got out her feet were numb and the cold of the air was painful. She looked back wondering how he would get over only to see that he had dragged a few long tree branches over and had tied them together making a walkway over the river. She frowned and lowered her head, she had felt the malicious smile on his face as she had struggled. It was humiliating, she turned away from him without saying a word and walked on. She tried to summon her anger, his reaction and behavior was uncalled for and completely unnecessary and downright mean, but she was just too tired. 

She came over a small hill a few minutes later and felt a rush of relief at the sight of a wooden shack. She walked towards it as quickly as she could, she couldn’t wait to get out of these clothes, get warm, eat and sleep. When she reached the door it was locked, she knocked a few times, each more incessantly and violently but there was no answer. The anger came back then and she shouted out, “By order of the Thalmor you will answer the door or relinquish all rights to this property. If you do not answer I will use force.” She scowled as silence answered her, she raised her hand but then realized if she destroyed the door nothing would keep the cold out. She sighed in annoyance but pulled out some lockpicks from her pockets. She kept a few on her just for these moments. The lock clicked and the door swung open, stepping inside she realized the shack had been abandoned long ago. She lit the lanterns around the one room that encompassed the entire shack and looked about. Broken and whole furniture lay strewn about in a heap, but there was a bed thankfully. It wasn’t much but it’d keep them out of the elements over night. 

She dropped her bag in front of the fire place and lit a fire with her magic within it easily. She stripped as quickly as she could, not even caring that he could see, he had seen it all before anyway when he rescued her and changed into dry clothes before turning to the bed. He was already lying under the covers, she gritted her teeth. He probably needed it more than she did anyway, he was just a weak, fragile human and an old one at that. His heart must have been given quite a jolt when he fell, she smiled even as annoyance seemed to worm its way into her. She pulled over a dusty rug and shook it out near the end of the bed. Dust, dirt and other small debris flew off it and all over him, he growled and batted it away glaring at her. She gave him an innocent smile before placing the rug before the fireplace and curling up on it. She shifted around trying to get comfortable before finally drifting off into a deep sleep.

* * *

He awoke the next morning stiff, his back still aching from the tumble onto the ice the day before. He groaned, rubbing his still sleepy eyes before taking in the room. The bright rays of sunshine illuminated the cracks in the door and some of the walls, he swung himself out of the bed and groaned as he stood. The previous day had been rough, it had started out well enough until he nearly died falling off a cliff, he glowered as he reached in his own bag for an apple and a piece of bread. He couldn’t believe what had happened, one second he was having a good time, and the next he was flying off a cliff to his death. He hadn’t acted like a carefree child in so long, for once the worries of the war had melted away and the constant nagging anxiety of the impending one with the elves had been temporarily forgotten until he was suddenly caught off guard and nearly died for it. His life had flashed before his eyes and while he was sitting at the bottom of the cliff he had wondered at the regrets that had bloomed within him as he fell. Regret that he hadn’t had a family, that his entire life had been dedicated to the Empire leaving nothing else for him or anyone else and even then he would fail the Empire in Skyrim. He hadn’t thought about a wife and child in a long time, when he was in his thirties he had thought on it briefly but his occupation didn’t leave much time and he didn’t want to risk dying when a woman and child depended on him. Let alone bringing a child into this dangerous, war torn world where men searched for a reason to kill each other. So it had came as a surprise to him when he regretted the absence of love in his life more than failing the thing he had dedicated his entire life to.

He stretched and began dressing, his eyes fell on the elf curled up in the fetal position in front of the dying fire. He frowned unsure what to think of her, it would not be unreasonable to think the Thalmor would try to kill him but now that he had calmed down he could see how ridiculous the idea that she tried to kill him intentionally was. All she had to do was let him fall if she wanted him dead, or she could have killed him any time during their travels, or even when he visited her or poisoned him with the medicinal stew she had made for him. His harsh accusations seemed foolish now and how he had treated her afterward had been mean spirited at best. He could still see her shivering, tired in the water, her eyes looking up at him for help but falling to the ground when she realized none would come. And he had simply laughed. Her eyes were expressive when her guard was down, he could clearly remember the offended and wounded look she had given him after his accusation. He had expected her to fight but instead her eyes just grew dim and tired. 

He shook his head and began searching through the shack curious as to what had happened to the person that had owned it. It had obviously been abandoned for a long time, the place was in disarray almost like there had been a violent brawl of some kind within it. The blood he found sprayed on the wall seemed to support the idea, even if there was a little too much of it for a mere fight. Although most fights in Skyrim ended with someone dead so maybe not. Had the man been murdered in his own home? For what? There was nothing of value here, he doubted the man had anything worth stealing even in his peak and he lived in the middle of nowhere who could he have pissed off so much? He moved the broken furniture aside finding large blood stains soaked and dried into the wooden floor. Someone had definitely died here in a brutal attack, clippings of rope lay within the dried blood. Someone had been tied up and executed brutally here, a chill swept through him, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as suspicions ran through his mind. He recalled Commander Maro of the Penitus Oculatus meeting with him, asking if in his travels around Skyrim he had found any suspicious buildings. The man had told him that often the Dark Brotherhood had a safe house they used for new initiates, punishments, or other jobs that had slightly more details than a simple murder. He turned away, dismissing the idea as quickly as it came. It was too unlikely that an abandoned shack they randomly stumbled upon held such significance. It was more likely a few bandits had stumbled upon the place, killed the owner and tossed the place trying to find anything of value.

He went outside and circled the building finding only broken down tools, wagons and carts, he looked up at the blue sky noting that the sun was nearly overhead, it was close to noon already. They had to get moving if they were going to reach Dawnstar by night or they’d be stuck in the cold or in this damned shack another night. He packed up his bag quickly and knelt behind Gadheriel, he touched her shoulder and shook her gently, “It’s time to get up, we have to get moving.” There was no response, not even a stirring. He shook her again but she was completely limp. He pulled her onto her back a sickening dread taking hold of him as she still didn’t wake up after being rolled over. Instead her body just flopped over, just like the many dead soldiers he had had to pull off the battlefield. His fingers slid across her neck searching for a pulse, for a moment a crushing weight settled on him and he couldn’t breathe but then he felt a flutter beneath his fingertips and a few seconds later another. She was alive her pulse was just slow and thready, he gently laid a hand on her forehead, it was no warmer than it should be for someone laying in front of a fire. He slowly lifted her off the floor, his back twinging a bit before laying her down on the bed, another wave of shame crippled him, his mother hadn’t raised him to be such a brute. She had raised him a gentlemen and he had made a woman far more injured than she had let on sleep on the floor. He cursed, he had no idea what was wrong with her and there wasn’t much he could do so far away from Solitude. He wasn’t keen on leaving her alone and defenseless in this shack either and he was most certain she would not like the idea either. 

He thought back to the previous day, he couldn’t recall her actually getting injured nor did he see any bruises or signs of physical trauma on her. A look of dawning comprehension slid over his face, it wasn’t often he had mages in his squads and battalions. He chose only a select few for he had learned their limitations quickly, a great feat of magic or prolonged battles often left them with magical exhaustion, and when they finally collapsed it was into a deep healing sleep where their magic replenished and wrapped around their life force once again. A mage had explained it to him once, magic was like muscles, the more you used them the stronger they became and the longer a person could maintain casting but no matter how great a mage eventually they get strained just like muscles. And if they keep expending magic when they had bled the well dry it no longer pulls from their innate magicka but their life force, a force the aedra had given them. Until they stopped and went into this deep sleep, collapsed on the spot unconscious or in the worst possible scenario died from using up all their life force. When they were in the sleep the magicka replenished and began mingling with their life force, returning it to its previous state and healing it before fusing itself around it once more. How long the sleep took varied on the person but in his own experience it could be anywhere from overnight to a week. 

He nearly chuckled, she had used part of her life force the other day trying to save him, there was no doubting that. When her magic had wrapped around him he could feel the thrum of power surrounding him, truthfully it was terrifying. He wasn’t frightened of much, not even magicka but the raw power that lay upon him at the whims of someone else, powerless to do anything had nearly given him a heart attack. At least he knew she’d be alright but who knew how long she’d be out and in turn, they would be stuck in this place. What if the killers came back? What if it was a safe house and they were found? He’d be on his own to defend both of them, he shook his head and pushed down his paranoia, it had already done enough damage. He resigned himself to staying, there was no other choice. 

By the time she awoke the next morning he was already awake and pacing back and forth in front of the door, he turned towards her relieved to see her awake, “Thank Stendarr, you’ve finally awoken. I didn’t know how long it’d take for your magicka to fix you.” 

She looked at him curiously, “For someone who doesn’t bother with magicka you seem to understand it quite well.” She commented carefully. She stretched and began to strip in front of him, he turned around to give her privacy. 

“I’ve met quite a few people in my short years on earth. The Empire had me stationed all over Imperial territory. I bumped my arms with a lot of different mages.” He replied nonchalantly, he still felt guilty for how he had acted, the entire time she had slept all he thought about were her hurt eyes turning dim and tired. She was always so full of fire, always ready for an argument until yesterday when he had yelled at her. Usually she’d yell right back, she absolutely infuriated him but he couldn’t help being drawn back to her every time as if somehow her love of arguing had rubbed off on him. He wished she had yelled back yesterday.

“Have you ever been to Morrowind?” She asked curiously.

He turned towards her and nodded, “Yes, you haven’t been?”

She shook her head, “Many high elves believe that to leave the Summerset Isle and mingle with the lesser races is degrading and debasing. Opening yourself up to contamination and corruption. It is a disgrace to forsake your perfect homeland for something else. The Thalmor leave only with the blessings given by the gods apparently, for a higher calling.” She answered.

He looked at her in amazement, the more he learned about her culture the more thankful he was that he was born a man rather than an Altmer. “I can’t imagine how your people are so happy being so uptight and restrictive.”

“Happiness is easy to achieve in a bubble, if you know nothing else and you do not pain for lack of anything why would you be unhappy? Why would you care?” She shrugged, “That hasn’t stopped a lot of Altmer from leaving our homeland anyhow, though now they can never go back. I do not know what is worse, living a sheltered life with no hope of seeing the world or losing your home.”

“Home is where you want it to be, but the entire world can not be in your backyard. You lose more by isolating, I’d say.” 

“I can see why you’d say that, you don’t settle down for very long in any one place, do you even have a home?” She said as she gathered up her belongings and packed her bag. 

“I have a room in the Imperial city.” He shrugged, “I’m hardly there, so I wouldn’t call it home. My home is wherever the Empire sends me next.”

“Imagine calling Castle Dour your home.” She said in a horrified tone.

He smiled and then breathed in deeply, “Look I’m sorry for yesterday, I did not mean what I said, I was just frightened.”

She looked at him for a long minute then nodded, “I am used to you always assuming the worse of me as I said before. It hardly matters anymore.” 

He smiled, “I’m glad to see you’re back to normal than. Haven’t been awake for an hour and already trying to provoke an argument.”

“More like finishing one you started the other day. So that doesn’t count.” She nibbled on a wedge of cheese as she slipped on her coat and boots, “Ready to finally get to Dawnstar?”

He nodded, “Yes, this place gives me the creeps.” They quickly left the house and as they walked he filled her in on what he had found inside, and his paranoid suspicions. He had assumed she’d just shrug them off but instead she said, “Report it. When we get to Dawnstar hire a courier and send Maro a correspondence. Better safe than sorry.”

He nodded, “Perhaps. Still feels foolish.” He didn’t know how to explain the feelings that had been bothering him the last few days. Every step closer to Dawnstar brought more and more anxiety and irrational worry, his shoulders felt heavy with the weight of it all. He shook his head, he was being illogical, it was most likely the anxiety of being away from his post, worrying about the war and his men, unable to check in on any of it. He had to trust Bastillion to do the right thing which didn’t bode well for anyone. They walked in silence, the ground getting increasingly more treacherous the farther they got away from the shack until once more they were knee deep in snow and icy winds battered them. “I am never coming back to this blasted place. I’m lucky I haven’t lost all my appendages to this ridiculous weather.” 

She nodded, “Parts of Skyrim are alright, but the most of it is just ridiculous, I don’t understand what the nords see in it. Too late now I suppose, they’re good and settled in with burial crypts and steeped in their own history. I do wish they had chosen a much more fertile land to settle in, would make the Thalmor’s job all the more easier.”

“Damn nords not letting themselves be invaded and taken over by a bunch of angry elves.” He muttered sarcastically, she just laughed. It was a sound he was slowly getting used to, it was an odd laugh. Not tinkering or pretty, but not obnoxious either. It had an odd lilting in it as if her vocal cords didn’t know if she was trying to sing or laugh. 

“We can’t keep doing this to each other if we are to travel together, we need to at least have some trust in each other. At least trust that we will not harm each other.” She said from beside him after a long silence.

His eyes shifted to her and he nodded, “Alright, so no killing each other?”

“Well not until we officially part ways anyhow.” She smiled at him, and he just shook his head, “Don’t worry I’ll give your eulogy.”

“So cocky, assuming you’re going to win. You will not win against me. I have various tricks up my sleeves you see.” He said, he turned his eyes forward and groaned at the sight of the steep hill before them. “We should have gotten horses we’d have been there by now.” He whined.

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t be such a baby, it could be worse. We have yet to run into any trolls, sabre cats or snow bears.” She led the way forward over the hill, bracing herself against the wind. 

They walked for another hour, shivering quietly shoulder to shoulder before finally he spotted something in the distance, “Look! Houses, I think we found the city.” He cried out with relief. He summoned his energy and began making long quick strides forward, his eyes set upon the homes growing steadily larger the closer they got. 

“You should be an archer you know, you have good eyes. You barely missed me the other day with the snow balls.” She commented as they searched the town for the inn. 

He stiffened his back as they walked through the old town, he could feel and see the townspeople glaring at him, off to the side he heard one shout, “You don’t belong here you Imperial scum! Cowards the lot of ya! How dare you waltz into our town with your thalmor hussy.” He turned to the older nord woman, his heart pounding, heat rushing to his chest and scowling face.

“Do not speak to her that way you foolish old woman. If you cared so much for your village you’d do them the service of silencing yourself before you offend the elf enough to write a very detailed letter back to her comrades.” He spoke softly, his tone never wavering as his eyes drilled into hers. He watched them shift from defiance and anger to rage and uncertainty. She threw a death glare at him and marched away muttering about how the elves could come for all she cared.

He turned back only to find Gadheriel staring at him, “You know if you’re going to do that every time someone dares insult me you’ll wear yourself out. Perhaps you should save it for the real big ones.”

“That old codger called you a hussy, you do know what that is don’t you?” He asked incredulously.

“I got the gist of it I assure you, I do not debase myself by speaking more foully than dog shit tastes.” She sniffed haughtily. “Also my people tend to speak in a civilized manner, like intelligent beings. We have no need for uncouth, barbaric words.” 

“It means you’re a whore.” He told her, his lips twitching. Never before had he heard someone manage to twist her own ignorance into an insult on someone elses intelligence and do so convincingly and eloquently. He was almost impressed. 

She scowled, “Hardly, I was pure until they—I’m not a whore.” She said stiffly, her lips curled.

A burning sensation traveled down his throat into the pit of his stomach, it clenched around it at the reminder of her suffering. They had taken her purity in such a brutal and cruel way. He swallowed hard and gently enclosed her fingers in his, squeezing them gently. “Bastards.”

She shrugged and slowly pulled her fingers away from his, “We mustn’t be seen being too friendly with each other, it would jeopardize things. Lets split up, I believe there are Imperials here you can check in with while I do my work.” 

He looked at her, unsure whether he should leave her, “Are you sure? This place is allied with the Stormcloaks you know.” 

“I will be fine General, you do not need to be so over-protective I am capable of defending myself if I need to, go now.” She said firmly her eyes flashing, a sure warning sign to an argument about to happen. He merely nodded and went off in search of Brina, one of the bravest soldiers he had ever known.

* * *

She sighed, the day had almost been an entire waste, no one in this small, insignificant town wanted to talk to her. Some outright ignored her, others insulted her and others merely told her lies or evaded her questions. She could feel a headache forming behind her right eye, infuriating nords always drove her insane and not in a good way. The Stormcloaks had their claws sunk deep into this town, although a few of them had seen sympathetic to the Imperials or at least neutral. They perhaps could be turned in time to at least give information to them when needed, but others did not want to betray neighbors or were too afraid to do so. Her stomach growled as she approached the inn hoping to find the General there, when she walked in the music stopped as did the conversation. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her and she sighed annoyed, she had at one point enjoyed this reaction but she had found it taxing after a while leaving her with an overwhelming need to strangle someone. Her eyes roamed over the room until she spotted Tullius waving her over to a table where he sat with two nords, one older female and a slightly younger man. 

She pulled over a chair and sat next to Tullius, “I see you found your friends.” She said with absolutely no enthusiasm, she wasn’t particularly pleased to have to be surrounded by strange nords when all she wanted was to be alone to eat, or at least only with Tullius, she didn’t mind him as much. 

“Yes, I was updating her on the war. This is Brina, one of the finest soldiers that fought in the Great War and her bodyguard Horik.” He tilted his head towards them, “This is Gadheriel, my traveling companion.” 

She glanced at him wondering what exactly he had told them of her presence, she turned her gaze to Brina and Horik studying them closely. They were sitting close, Horik was leaned in towards Brina his eyes every once in a while roaming the room, his hand close to hers, his eyes were warm and sharp. Brina on the other hand was stiff and upright, her own hand close to Horik’s and the other bent and leaning on the table. Both carried weapons. 

Brina’s eyes traveled up and down her, “I was slightly concerned when you told me she was an elf but a Thalmor, General?” The woman’s eyes turned to him. 

“Ah, well I must go where and with whom the Empire tells me don’t I?” he answered smoothly as he sipped at an ale. 

“Aye, I see.” Brina said as a smile grew on her face, “So Gadheriel, I suppose it’s nice to meet you.” The nord held out her hand. 

She looked at it, snippets of memories flashing across her mind, and curled her lip, “I wish I could say the same but unfortunately it seems I am fated to be surrounded by you lot with your questionable hygiene, and subpar intelligence.” She glanced at Brina’s hand in contempt, “I held my comrades in my arms as they died, I’ve had enough of their blood spilled on me. I certainly don’t need anymore of it on me.” Her voice was chilly as anger pulsed through her and the stabbing pain behind her eye grew worse. She didn’t wait around to hear any of their responses, instead she went over to the bar and ordered a simple bowl of vegetable soup with a bread and cheese platter and a side bowl of mixed berries. She asked for a bottle of spiced wine before remembering she needed a room. 

“Do you have an empty room and how much for a single night?” She asked as the chef put together her order. 

“Ten gold ma’am.” 

She paid the innkeeper for the room and her food before grabbing the tray of food and wine and slinking across the inn and into the room. It was a small room, barely enough room to move around but it had a small bed, dresser, nightstand and a table and chair shoved against the only window. She ate slowly, exhaustion taking over her. The day had been tedious and draining, she had to restrain herself from responding how she wished to them. Her orders had been to make a good impression, unfortunately insulting and murdering them was not likely to leave any form of positive impact, except perhaps for the rest of Tamriel. She smiled a little perhaps she could win Elenwen over with the simple argument that it would be doing Tamriel a great service to rid them of the Nords, but somehow she couldn’t see her going for it. She sipped her wine and rubbed her eyes, she was used to dealing with irritating and stubborn nords but today it had been worse than usual.

She didn’t know what it was but it was like a heavy bleakness lay over the town, the tension and pressure in the air almost suffocating. Everyone was either angry or morose, their eyes tired and empty for the most part. She had heard about nightmares from almost every single person, she had rolled her eyes at the first few but by the time she had made her way across town it was obvious something was going on. Many couldn’t remember their dreams but of those that could remember even a tiny bit of them they were all similar. She sighed, this would require some research but first the report she had to write. She grabbed parchment, quill and ink from her bag before pushing her food to the side, nibbling on it every few minutes as she began to write.

_Location: Dawnstar_  
_Date: Tirdas the thirteenth of Morning Star, 4E 202_  
_Agent: 7545; Commander._

_Report: It is clear that the people of this town of no more than seventy strongly support the Stormcloaks, including their leader Jarl Skald the Elder. This man feels himself above the law of the Empire, the Thalmor and even his own High King. This belief has stemmed from the great battles waged by men centuries before the Jarl was born, who hailed from what was “Danstrar” or now Dawnstar. Do not ask me for the logic in his thought pattern, the only thing I can tell you is my firm belief that this man is mentally ill. As we all know when humans age they lose their capacity in many different areas, one of them seems to be their mental capacity. As illogical and unreasonable as they are in their younger years even worse are they in their elder years, and a sickness we have seen many times seems to crop up. In my opinion he is suffering from a form of Auta Vasha. I believe this could be helpful, he is unreliable and unstable, he is more of a liability for any side than anything else. He openly supports the Stormcloaks and it is my belief that if we applied the correct pressure and tactics we could, over time, create quite a mess for both the Imperials and the Stormcloaks._

_As for the town people they seem to follow their leader blindly. I do not know if they truly support the Stormcloaks based on their own beliefs or in the belief of their leader. If I had to say I would say it was a mix of the two, but if pressed too hard their leaders belief’s would become their own. There is a few divergents that will be dealt with according to the law of grievances and my own personal instructions from the First Emissary, Lady Elenwen herself. To be discreet, they are a pair of retired but still devoutly loyal, Imperial soldiers. One of which was a Legate who is well respected in the Imperial Legion and an excellent leader. Otherwise the people are generally upper working class (If such a thing even exists), they can afford to live and have enough to spend here and there they generally do not have much gold or other resources themselves. They know each other fairly well but there isn’t much community feeling, there is a slight distrust and distance between the people of this town who’ve known each other all their lives. There are two mines in this tiny town, Iron-breaker mine owned by Beitild, and Quicksilver mine owned by Leigelf. There is a competitiveness and outright hostility between the two owners and the people in their employ. It seems that Beitild and Leigelf were previously married, newly divorced and now they loathe each other. This has led to workers being overworked and underpaid, yet the ore keeps piling up regardless. It is a good resource to have, although iron ore is not all that useful it could be sold or traded for better resources, and quicksilver is much needed for our own armor and weapons._

_The town also surrounds a port where they can receive and trade supplies, I have not been able to ascertain where the supplies are coming from or from whom but they are to be transported to Winterhold and then Windhelm. Apparently the Jarl of Winterhold feels less relevant in Skyrim since half of his city has been destroyed and is grasping onto any means of power and authority. It is curious with Dawnstar and Solitude being so close how the ships passing through to whichever port do not intercept one another, it would seem they must. There is something there, some corruption of some sort that should be investigated if First Emissary Elenwen ever wishes the war to end whichever way. The only other thing to note in this dreary place is the lack of protection, there are no walls or other obstacles, there are barely any guards. When I asked the Jarl of his defenses in regards to the civil war he once more mentioned the people of Danstrar and how his people could defend themselves in these times if people of the past could. In conclusion, I do not figure Dawnstar to be much of a problem or a great asset in the war for either side, but perhaps our own. The people are stubborn but they are devoted to what is best for them, rather than true loyalty to a cause of any sort. There is no threat level to us here in any form._

She wiped the quill off and set it aside with the parchment to let it dry. She stretched out her legs and rubbed her aching eyes. She quickly finished her food and set the dirty dishes outside of her door. Brina and Horik were thankfully gone but Tullius was sitting at the bar with a glower on his face, undoubtedly he was angry at her for treating his friends so rudely. She probably shouldn’t have reacted like that, it was a war and they had killed their fair share of humans in it, but she had been done dealing with the people of this town and could not take any more social contact with nords. She walked over until she was standing behind him and tapped his shoulder. She felt his back stiffen but he didn’t even turn to look at her. She slid onto the stool next to him and ordered an ale, she glanced at him as the innkeeper placed the ale in front of her but he was still refusing to acknowledge her. “Have you eaten?” 

“Yes.” He replied shortly.

She sighed, “Do we need to have a drag out argument to get over this?”

“You tell me, you start most of them.” 

“It’s been a bad day. Any day I have to spend a significant amount of time with any nord is bound to be a bad day. I’m sorry.” She said quietly.

“I killed my fair share of elves in the Great War Gadheriel.” He replied setting his drink down.

She flinched, “I know you did but it is not the same. I didn’t recognize her at first you know until she spoke but it was a war.” 

“You ran afoul of Brina?” He said surprised.

“She found us more like.” She sighed and ran a hand over her face, “It matters not, I do not wish to speak of that night. I just don’t want to fight with you, not tonight. I have something else I need to discuss with you.”

“Oh?”

“Have you heard about these nightmares everyone seems to be having?”

“It’s all they can talk about, that or the damn Stormcloaks. Brina thinks they’re all just overreacting and being babies, but I can tell it’s affecting her as well.”

“Something is going on, it is too much of a coincidence, there must be some sort of magicka involved. A spell or curse perhaps but to be so wide spread that would need more than one person. And it would have to be the land that was cursed, it would be far too difficult to curse this many people but I haven’t seen any sigils at all.” She said frustration in her voice. She knew the answer, it was almost at the very tip of her tongue but still keeping itself out of her minds reach. 

“Sigils?” He asked curiously.

She sighed and nodded, just grateful things seemed to be normal again, “Yes, Sigils are somewhat like runes. Many people who study and use the arcane often either confuse the two or use the term interchangeably but that is not actually correct. Runes are often writing of some sort or a depiction of what they are asking for, for example a rune for water might be a word for water or a drawing of water, or something else referring to it. A rune can be put to good or bad purposes, but are most often found in rituals or carved in buildings for some sort of protection, whether that be purely magical or magicka used in traps. Sigils on the other hand are different. They are more dark, that doesn’t mean they don’t have any good or practical uses but unlike runes they can not be simply carved into stone. Even with runes there’s a process, certain stones with certain instruments to carve and what not; with sigils, however, one often has to make the stone itself.” 

“How the hell does one make stone?” He asked, she smiled at his attentiveness, many of her own troops didn’t listen to her when she was explaining or teaching something, but this man who was not the least bit magical gave her his undivided attention. 

“Ah my dear, most people when they begin these studies think you can just make stones like we do ice, lightning and fire,” she said as she held up her hand shifting through the elements as she listed them. “But stone is much too difficult, it is too solid and heavy to really make. It is also something to do with the elements, they have more natural magic in them, or energy, than a mere rock does. No one can just form stone from thin air. Only gods can do that and so we ask ourselves what makes a god? The ability to create? The ability to govern? Their compassion? Foresight? Power? We must create a god in order to make stone.”

“Create a god? You just said mages can not create stone, so how can you make a god? Did the dwemer not try that and get ripped off of Tamriel?” He looked at her confused and appalled.

“They were using a piece of a god to make another god. That sort of thing hardly ends well, but no. It’s not a god in the way that it has divinity, not truly. Not like the daedra or the Divines. You must take an object of power, bones from a wise man, a newborn of some kind—human works best but any would do—the eyes of a mother, and flowers from a grave. You grind it all up in a pool of mud under a full moon and leave it to sit until high noon when the sun is directly over head that is when you need to crack the bones of the world open and steal the essence of the fallen ones.” 

“Essence of the fallen ones? How does one crack the earth open? I’m beginning to suspect you are mocking me.” He huffed, eyeing her suspiciously.

She laughed, “But I am not, oh if only I could show you. Well you know how Tamriel was formed? That the world we live upon is merely the dead bodies of the divines who sacrificed themselves to create the Mundus yes?” He nodded, “Well they still live some what, you just need to go to certain sights…there is one in the Valenwood, where there is a burial ground of sorts. It is in Grahtwood I believe, the Bone Orchard. You can quite literally crack the earth open and find them, steal their essence, at least a fraction of it. You can place it in a black soul gem but not for very long. You then just drop the soul gem into the mud and eventually the gem will burst releasing the essence into your mixture. Another night and day will pass but on the third day it will begin to harden and move on its own, and by that night a strange creature of stone will rise from it. Simply bend it to your will, carve whatever ancient symbols you need, kill the creature. Cut the symbols out of the creature and place them where you need. With the remains you perform a ritual, and cast the curse which will then seek out the missing pieces and connect them all in a sort of magical grid cursing whoever falls within it.” She said wrapping up her explanation as she ordered another ale.

“That is insane, how did the first person find this all out anyhow?” 

“The usual means, either intensive research and experimentation or a daedra.” She shrugged, slightly smiling as the General spluttered at the mention of Daedra. “But like I said I didn’t see any sigils any place, so it is not that. So it’s not a spell or curse of any sort. If it was an age old problem I’d say it was the town itself but it’s not that either. Something is happening, perhaps I can find out more information tomorrow.” 

“So another day here then?” 

She nodded, “Most definitely, the Thalmor would want me to investigate this, I can’t leave it like this. Goodness knows if it is something serious and I left it as it is but that is tomorrow. Tonight I just wanna sleep.” She stood up yawning.

He nodded, “Go ahead, Brina offered me a bed at her place.”

She frowned, “Did she now?” She said sharply, a sharp pang and irritation sweeping through her. 

“Yes, she is an old friend, I haven’t seen her in many years. I had no idea she ended up in Skyrim. I’d like to catch up.” 

“Oh I’m sure you would, I’m surprised Horik is willing to step aside for you.” She said snidely, a sour taste in her mouth. She winced at the jealousy she could hear in her own voice, both ashamed of it and confused by it. She had no right to feel this way, nor any reason to, what was it to her if he wanted to spend the night with a woman? He wasn’t anything to her but a friendly face in a sea of others. 

He looked at her oddly for a second before laughing, “I assure you Brina has no interest in me like that, as much as they deny it it is obvious to all that Horik and her are completely wrapped up in each other. I don’t know why they don’t just come out with it already.” He shook his head and spared her another puzzled look.

She shrugged, “Fine. I will see you in the morning.” She said quickly, wanting nothing more than to escape to her room to die of embarrassment. 

When he left she did just that, locking the door behind her she stripped down before flopping in the bed in the most ungraceful way she could. She groaned face first into the pillow. She doused the candles and slowly fell asleep. 

_The clanging of swords usually so sharp and poignant was muffled and far away even though the battle raged on all around her. The screaming, the cries for help, the death rattles all seemed so far away. She could feel nothing, not the ground beneath her, nor the heat of the flames surrounding them, not even the wounds littered across her body. She stared blankly down to the broken body in her arms. Blood splattered across his golden armor and long blond hair, his beautiful yellow eyes devoid of life. She rested her palm against his cheek and stroked it softly, “You promised me you wouldn’t do this to me. You promised me.” She said in a broken voice, “Please…” She desperately tried to heal him, she pushed golden threads of healing magic into him over and over but his wounds didn’t heal nor did life return to him. She cradled him in her arms, pulling him to her chest and clutching him desperately. She hugged him to her, burying her face in his hair, “I can not do this without you.”_

_She jerked forward violently as arrows pierced her armor burying themselves deep within her, but nothing compared to the pain of losing him. Nothing they could do to her could ever hope to compare. They had already done the worse, what was there left to care about? A woman bellowed at them close by, a strange keening noise filled the chaos of the night air. It took her a while to realize it was her making the noise, and that the world was not rocking but she was. Men were speaking around her, men who had killed him, who had taken him from her. Men who hardly deserved to breathe when he did not. She felt rage boil beneath her skin, red hot and vicious, she gently laid him down feeling a bit of herself crumbling within her as she did so and got up in the blink of an eye. She swiveled around tearing into the Imperials closest to her, she could hear herself screaming. There were no words, just a vicious primal screaming as she broke their necks, gouged their eyes out, stabbed them in the back with their own swords, set them on fire and impaled them on conjured spears. She could see nothing else, could feel nothing else, all she knew was that they had to die, she had to hunt every last one of them down. Make them pay._

_More ran in, the woman who had yelled before among them, she placed her hands together as if she was praying, pointing her finger tips at the approaching imperials and slowly separated them. Magic erupted beneath them, their faces were lined with shock as the earth split open beneath them, swallowing them whole. All but two, a woman—the Legate no doubt—and a man clung to the side of the newly formed ravine, she raised her hand a simple spell forming when suddenly she was blasted off her feet painfully. The wind was knocked out of her as she flew backwards, skidding across the ground until she was once more by him. She looked into his glazed yellow eyes, breathing shallowly, unable to draw in a deep breath when it hurt so much, her eyes blurring, and her fingers twitching. “You left me, but I am coming to you now.” She used the last of her energy to reach out and grab his hand, intertwining her fingers with his before she fell into darkness._

  
She jerked awake, sweat dripped down her face as if she was still there among the flames and heated battle. She yanked the blankets off of her looking for blood, she could still feel the sticky darkness surrounding her. The dark of the room was unbearable, she waved her hand sending out little jets of flame that traveled to the candles and lit them. She ran her hand through her hair, breathing deeply to calm her raging heart beat but the ache in her chest didn’t dissipate as quickly. She closed her eyes trying to cling to the feeling of having him in her arms once again, trying to recall his beautiful face, the scent of pine that lingered in his hair even through the weather and battle. “Celoniril…” She whispered into the cold air of her rented room. Her lips shook as memories took hold of her, the day he had hand delivered the arranged marriage proposal from his parents, the insecure look in his eyes as she read it and looked him over, as if he knew she’d reject him. The look of shock and disbelief when she had accepted days later. And how could she ever forget the walk through the gardens that led to a cliff over looking the sea where he had taken her to propose properly. She grabbed her bag and flung it open pouring the contents out on her bed. She shifted through it haphazardly until she found the small pouch where she kept her most personal items, she pulled out the engagement ring he had given her. It was not the most lavish, there were no jewels, no inscription, it was a simple copper band but she knew it had been the best he could afford. She knew he hadn’t eaten for a week so he could afford this, she had accepted it readily and spent the rest of the night feeding him.

They had never gotten to marry, she had asked to be wed immediately but Elenwen had denied the motion, she was to ship out in just a few days and it would be improper for an Altmer to be wed anywhere but in Summerset. She wrapped her hand around the ring tightly and held it to her chest, she may not have known him well at first, but they had been learning each other slowly in the small moments they had had together. She slipped the ring onto her finger once more, just for the night. Just for the duty she had promised to perform and got dressed quickly. She knew she had heard that witches voice before, she knew it, after all these years Celoniril would be avenged and a problem for the Thalmor in Dawnstar eliminated. She slipped out of the inn quietly, the few people remaining not paying her any attention. She kept to the shadows between houses until she reached Brina’s, she moved around the house studying it quickly. She climbed up the hill and casted a quick muffling spell before jumping from the rocky ledge to the ledge of her house. She unlatched part of the roof and slid between the straw and wooden support beams until she was balancing on the rafters inside the house. She quickly and silently latched the straw back to the beams. When she looked down she cursed her forgetfulness, Brina and Horik were sleeping in the double bed but across the large room General Tullius lay sleeping in a small twin bed. 

She crouched down, trying to plan out her next move. She could wait until the next day but she couldn’t bear to forsake Celoniril one more day in favor of a man, even a man like Tullius. She still had to work with the man though, and for some reason, whether she was beginning to tolerate him or even consider him a friend, she did not wish to alienate the old General. She silently cast another muffling spell and let herself swing off the rafter and fall to the floor gracefully. She crouched in the middle of the house before the fireplace and slowly stood facing the General. She splayed her fingers and reached out into the air as if pushing against something solid. A transparent blue wall formed and melded with the air becoming clear and almost fluid so if the General woke up all he would see were his friends sleeping peacefully. She raised her hand and cast a paralyzation spell on all three of the inhabitants of the house. It wouldn’t last long but long enough for her to get the job done. She crept over to Horik until she was standing over him, she conjured a daedric sword and plunged it into his heart fast and hard. She ripped it out fast and approached the other side of the bed, staring down with hatred in her eyes at the old Imperial woman paralyzed in her bed. The coldness inside of her more bitter than any she had experienced in Skyrim, there was a cold anger. Not one that ran hot and tempermental, it was more calculating, more fierce and deadly than that, it bided its time until opportunity arose and without mercy or remorse struck with no emotion. She plunged the sword into her heart as well and let it rest there a while as she leaned over the Imperial, studying how she looked in death. She pulled the blade out and carefully walked to the front door to unlock it. She opened it just a crack to see where the guards were and waited until none were around and slipped out unnoticed. When she was in front of the Jarl’s home she pulled the thread of magic that connected the illusion to her magicka to keep it up. It unraveled and returned to her silently leaving no trace that anyone had been there at all. 

She returned to the inn and slipped back in her room shedding her robes she quickly washed any traces of blood off them and dried them by holding flames in her hand and blowing the steam over them. The deed was done, Celoniril could finally rest easy even if he did so without her. He had died so long ago, she hadn’t even attained Sergeant rank yet, she had been a mere foot soldier in the Thalmor in those days. She laid back down in the bed and shut her eyes, drifting off to pleasant memories of her Celoniril, the man she had never gotten a chance to truly love.

The next morning she was awoken by an urgent and persistent knocking on her door, she groaned and rolled over completely exhausted as if she had gotten no sleep at all. She rubbed her eyes and cringed as the knocking got louder, “Alright I’m coming. Keep your panties on.” She called out with a scowl on her face. She dressed quickly and threw the door open, she was not surprised to see the General at her doorstep at all. He looked a mess, his face was lined with shock but his eyes were filled with accusation. 

“What happened to you?” She asked looking him up and down.

He scowled and slammed her door shut, she winced, “I’ve been held at the Jarl’s place for the last few hours.”

The look of shock that spread across her face was genuine, that hadn’t been part of her plan at all, “For what?!”

He frowned as he looked at her, the accusation slowly fading to confusion, “You don’t know?”

“Know _what_? If it’s important enough for you to wake me you better spit it out quickly.” She snapped as she brushed her hair. 

“Brina and Horik were murdered as I slept feet away. I didn’t even wake up!” He hissed in frustration beginning to pace back and forth, “I reported it to the guard who came to investigate. I told him what had happened but he hardly believed that I hadn’t woken up. They hauled me off to the jail to interrogate me.” 

She froze with the comb halfway through her hair, her stomach clenched, “Interrogated you?” She asked sharply her eyes traveling over his body looking for injuries. Had they tortured him for something she had done? Her mouth dried out and her chest tightened at the prospect, had she cause him harm because she couldn’t wait one more night? 

He turned to her, his face softening at the look on her face, “They did not dare harm me too much, they knew I couldn’t be nor killed outright lest the Imperial Legion march upon the town.”

She tossed the comb aside and stood up, “But they did harm you.” A sour taste filled her mouth as a wriggling feeling in her chest came to life.

“Only a few punches. I am fine, Brina and Horik are the ones that were butchered.” He spit out bitterly, scowling as his fists tightened, “What kind of General am I when I don’t even wake up when my fellows are being attacked?” he growled angrily. 

“How did the bodies look?”

“What does that matter?” He snapped, “You want me to recount the gory details of my friends murder for your entertainment?” He glared at her.

She sighed, “I may not have liked Brina and Horik but I know they were your friends. I hardly wish harm upon you, which this obviously has.” She half-lied smoothly. 

His shoulders fell and his jaw tightened, “Like they were sleeping. There didn’t appear to be a struggle at all neither seemed to wake up. It makes no sense even if one was killed without waking it would have awoken the other, but they hadn’t.”

“What do the guards have to say about it?” She asked curiously, she doubted the nords were intelligent enough to figure it out on their own, even if they all got together it would still take them a while to figure out that two plus two equals four. 

“After they couldn’t beat a confession out of me they wrote it off as the Dark Brotherhood.” He sighed as he began pacing back and forth again, “Which still doesn’t make sense, I tried to tell them that no assassin would be able to get past all three of us unnoticed, but they just argued that the assassin could have used magic. They aren’t even going to do anything about it! Once the Dark Brotherhood got brought up they all seemed to want nothing to do with the case. They’re going to bury them and act like nothing has happened. It isn’t right! Brina and Horik dedicated their entire lives to the Empire, to fighting for what was right. They hardly deserve to be swept under the rug like they are something to be ashamed of!” He kicked the dresser violently sending a few bottles of her potions tumbling to the ground, thankfully the vials were enforced with magic so they didn’t break. 

“You can’t be all that surprised, nords aren’t known for their intelligence or reasoning skills. It is wrong but expected, sadly enough. Do you have any idea who it may be? They have any unresolved business? Old enemies?” She asked cautiously.

“The only person I could think of was you.” He admitted quietly as he studied her, “But you seemed genuinely shocked when I told you. Now I have no idea. I sent a courier to Solitude with a message to Bastillion, he’ll come out and launch an investigation covering the area. Obviously the person must have come and fled during the night. Whoever they are they won’t get away with it.” He spoke harshly.

“Good, you shouldn’t. You also shouldn’t blame yourself, whoever it was had obviously been trained, what I find curious is why they didn’t kill you as well.” She said softly, she couldn’t believe how easy this was when he was paranoid over the oddest things and they fought over petty things that didn’t matter but something like this he takes her reaction at face value.

“Thats crossed my mind as well, I have no idea. I certainly can not explain why they thought she deserved to die but I did not.” He sighed deeply slouching forward a little, “She was a much more honorable person than I.”

“I highly doubt that.” She answered dryly, “Let me see your injuries so I can heal them.”

“They are nothing compared to what Brina went through, I hardly deserve to be healed when she can not be.” His voice was filled with remorse. 

She stepped forward, placing her hands on her hips, “Oh that is logical, because going around in pain is going to bring her back. I’m sure this very second she is overjoyed by the prospect of you punishing yourself for not getting killed as well.” 

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated.”

“Your hard-headed tendencies are not appreciated.” She returned his glare, “You know I am right.”

He nodded curtly, “I suppose I do not have a choice in this matter.” He said grudgingly as he shed his coat and then began to undo the straps and latches of his armor until his top was bare. 

Her eyes traveled over his chest and abdomen, he was well-defined but not too muscular at all, his chest was mostly bare only a sparse amount of thin hair spread across his chest and absolutely none on his abs or belly button. There were ugly large bruises covering his ribs and stomach, she winced and looked up at him frowning, “We must redefine your definition of injured. Damn brutes.” She snarled, her fingers carefully slid down his chest and caressed the largest bruise lying across his left ribcage area. His breath hitched when her hand pressed into the bruise, she looked at him apologetically and let the golden threads of her healing magic flow from her fingers freely.

She slid her fingers over every inch of the bruise until it faded slowly, leaving him unmarred. She gently slid her fingers over the bruises on his right ribs. His eyes were closed as she repeated the same process until the bruises disappeared. Her fingers ghosted down his chest to his stomach and she let loose her magic one last time trying not to think about how warm and solid he felt underneath her palm, how it felt to have his arms around her holding her to his chest. Trying not to imagine what it would feel like to do so with him shirtless. She shouldn’t be thinking like this, she didn’t know why she was. Perhaps all the times he had comforted her she had grown to like it enough to miss it. The idea made her uneasy, to be reliant on another for such intimacy was detrimental in so many different ways but she couldn’t deny her own shallow breaths, nor her heart beating rapidly as her hands traveled across his chest. She could hear his own uneven breaths, she could feel him leaning into her hands slightly, and as the last traces of the bruising faded their eyes met. She could not discern the heated look in his eyes, nor the dryness in her own mouth.

“Whatever happened, I am glad that they did not harm you.” She told him in a voice barely above a whisper. 

“I am as well.” He answered quietly as he reached out and brushed her hair away from her face, his fingers softly running across her cheek. 

She inhaled sharply realizing her hand was still on his abdomen and jerked back from him quickly. The heat in the room dissipated as fast as it had come. She wrung her hands and looked away from him, unable to understand what had just happened. What was she doing? “Go eat something, I need to get ready to investigate these damn nightmares people are having, I’ll see if I can also find anything else out about Brina.” She said firmly, not daring to meet his eyes. She waited until the door closed again before she sat on the bed and ran her hands over her face, what the hell just happened? A hot flush of shame washed over her quickly, burning her to the core. Was it not enough that the Stormcloaks had defiled her, now she felt a desire to contaminate herself further? She shook her head, no respectable elf would have been in that situation, what had she been thinking? 

She certainly shouldn’t have acted as she had nor should she have felt the shiver that had run down her spine when his fingers had stroked over her cheek. For a second afterwards she thought they would kiss but then, thankfully, rationality kicked in. She shook her head there had to be something wrong with her. She certainly hadn’t felt any attraction to him before, never had her simple healing touch ever turned into something more personal. This was not like her, perhaps whatever was affecting the townspeople was also affecting her. She did have a nightmare the other night and perhaps because her biology was different than a humans it left lingering, odd, side effects. Whatever it was it would never happen again of that she was certain, she would make damn sure. The thought of what could have happened had her mind not returned to her made her shudder, a feeling of nauseas swept across her at the thought of contaminating herself with him. He may be a good human but he was still just a human, his limited years making him almost useless in comparison to their long ones. If not for the fact that men had changed the face of Tamriel with their small life spans they would be utterly useless in every regard. She was beyond him in every way and he was barely worth her notice, especially in that regard. Perhaps a tenuous friend, but nothing more. She would never lose herself again and certainly not to any human. She breathed in deeply as she stood and faced the door, turning the knob she raised her chin and left her room as the graceful superior elf she was.

The inn was more full than she had expected this early in the morning, a lot of the towns inhabitants were milling about talking with one another, undoubtedly about the murders that had happened the night before. Her eyes traveled over the crowd until she found the General sitting at the table finishing a small plate of toast and fruit. Their eyes met briefly and he stood from the table, she walked to meet him, they were silent for a few seconds neither knowing what to say to the other when a voice she recognized drifted out of the nearby crowd. She whipped her head around, her heart leaping at the sound of the familiar Dunmeri accent she had grown up hearing. Her eyes raked over the people surrounding them more carefully until they landed upon a dunmer wearing priest robes. She moved around the General who followed her with his eyes and moved closer to get a better view. Her heart leapt in to her throat when she saw his face; he was much older but it was truly him. “Casimir?!” She called out interrupting the two nordic woman talking with him.

His aged and wrinkled red eyes turned to her, a look of pleasant surprise flitting across his face, “Gaddy?” He said in amazement, he broke away from the conversation he was having and walked over to her, the General approaching to stand by her side.

“What’re you doing here?” She said a wide smile spreading across her face as her eyes took him in, she tilted her head, “And why are you dressed like a priest?”

“Ah, that is a long story my dear, I have left my scholarly pursuits for life in the servitude of Mara.” He explained softly as they walked further from the crowd for some privacy, “I see you’ve devoted yourself to a new cause as well.” He was frowning a little, “Goodness, the last time I saw you was when you were still in pigtails collecting flowers.”

She smiled warmly, “Ah yes, I was going to grow up to be an amazing alchemist like my father. Funny how life works out, isn’t it? You, a priest for Mara, and I, a Thalmor agent. Who would have thought all those years ago this is where we’d end up?”

“Certainly not I.” He said quietly, there was a sternness and disappointment in his eyes that felt like a knife in her chest. “You held such promise, why would you throw it all away for the thrill of oppressing others? You could have been so much more, so much better than this.”

His words were like a slap in the face, they stung in places that nobody else had been able to reach in centuries, “I use my talents for what I see as the good of all people on Tamriel. Sometimes what is best for people comes at a price.” She raised her chin, her lips pressing together tightly.

He looked at her silently, “My child how I wish I could save you from what I have gone through, but one day you will see the folly in your actions and the error of your thinking.” He sighed, “But I can not judge you too harshly, when I myself have been in your shoes. That is why I am here.”

The General stepped forward, “And when did you get into town priest?” Tullius demanded, his eyes hard and suspicious. 

She rested her hand on the Generals’ arm and shook her head, “Casimir wouldn’t harm anyone, I assure you.”

The old dunmer turned to the General and bowed his head to him, “I have heard about your colleagues untimely deaths, you have my deepest condolences. I arrived here early this morning as the sun rose and the birds sang.” He looked between the two of them, “You are Gaddy’s partner?”

Her face heated up as the General gave a small smile at the nickname, “Gaddy, huh?” He remarked slyly. 

She glared at him, “If you call me that I swear it’ll be the last thing you will ever say.” She retorted her arms crossed over her chest. 

The General turned back to look at Casimir and nodded, “We are working together temporarily.” His eyes traveled between her and the dunmer, “So how do you two know each other.” 

“Casimir was one of my parents servants, and one of my tutors, in fact my favorite one. When my father was away on business he would take me out to the country side and teach me about magic, and all that grows in the wilds.” She smiled as fond memories came forth, “We were quite close, I used to call him Uncle Casimir.”

“Ah my dear, I go by Erandur now.” He mentioned, “Gadheriel was the best student I ever had—”

“I was your only student.”

“She was very gifted in the arcane arts, though that was hardly a surprise. Her father was an amazing alchemist and healer and her mother was one of the best Illusionists in Summerset, we all knew she’d be powerful.” He looked at her. “I suppose she still is, even if she has chosen to wield that power in a way that I disapprove of, and her parents certainly would.” 

She ignored the stinging inside of her and said, “Since when do you go by Erandur and what do you mean this is the reason you are here? What is going on?” She stepped forward concerned for the man who had been like a father to her when her own was away. She knew he’d disapprove of her choice, but she still remembered holding his hand as they crossed small streams as he talked on in his soothing dunmeri accent about flowers and animals, and the magic that lived within the ground from the gods of old. He had shown her how to harness that magic and use it when needed, he had taught her so much and had done so with patience and kindness. When there was a holiday or she had done something really well he would take her to Alinor for an afternoon and they’d take painting classes, listen to poetry being read, watch the crafters work and sometimes she’d help them, then he would buy her dinner at the little inn by the stables and afterwards they’d rent a horse and take it out for a while before he took her home again. She had loved him so much that her family welcomed him into their home as an equal for holidays and gave him a pay raise. She had confided in him, depended on him and then one day he had just disappeared. She could still remember the pain of that heart break, just thinking of it made her chest ache.

“Perhaps it would be best to talk of this elsewhere.” His eyes roamed over the people filtering in and out of the inn. He led them out of the inn and up the road that both was the entrance and exit to Dawnstar, “Mara has sent me here to deal with the towns peoples nightmares.”

“I’ve been investigating that myself. I got here yesterday and found everyone complaining of similar dreams. What do you know of it?” She said curiously. 

“You remember the lessons I gave you of the gods—all of them?” 

“Of course, I also studied them quite a lot during training but what do they have to do with—oh. Oh how could I have not seen it!” She tapped her foot annoyed with herself, it was so obvious now. She felt like an idiot, or like the little ignorant innocent girl she had been. 

“Would one of you blasted mages like to inform me?” the General grumbled from beside her, his arms crossed over his chest and his brow quirked.

“Oh how silly of us to forget that mankind’s brain works at a slower speed than elven kinds’ does…” She trailed off as a smirk lifted the corner of her lips. Tullius scowled, but before he could comment she continued, “It’s Vaermina, the Daedric Prince, it all makes sense now, but what could she possibly want with _these_ people?”

“Which one is Vaermina again?” The General asked, his brow furrowed, both elves looked at him, one with a look of endless exasperation and the other with a patient smile. 

“The daedric prince of nightmares, psychological terror and torment, dreams, evil omens and memory theft. Of course it would have to be a daedric prince, without any sigils around the place no one else would be powerful enough to sustain such a state for long, and even if they could it would still leave the question as to why. Although there have been theories that you can rip things out of dreams and make them real with the right usage of restoration, illusion and conjuration magicka. I tried some of my own experiments but I always hated illusion spells. I can do them easily enough but they feel cheap.” She said her eyes lighting up in excitement and fascination. 

“So what does she want with the people of Dawnstar? What does a daedric prince even do with the dreams she collects?” The General asked, looking at Erandur.

“No one quite knows to be honest, all we know is that she hungers for them and hoards them in her realm leaving the mortals with nightmares in the stead of their memories and sweet dreams. Whatever it is, it is surely malevolent. Often times she does it for entertainment value, she likes to press buttons and see how mortals erode over time. How much does it take to break a human she wonders and then she finds an answer.” Erandur shook his head, his face lined with sorrow. 

“I will never understand why people choose to worship them.” The General shook his head, disgust and disdain etched into his face.

“I think they are fascinating, evil and horrible yes, but still interesting. The Divines aren’t any better, aedra and daedra are the same exact beings, or they were once, the only difference now is that the aedra are weaker because they expended power creating Tamriel. Nonetheless they are the same exact creature, the only reason the divines pretend to care about us at all is because they need our worship to gain any more power. Where as the daedra have no use for us in that regard, only to stroke their egos and entertain them. Mark my words though if the divines were as powerful as they once were, as the daedra are, they’d be no better than Vaermina.” She huffed. 

“I was under the impression you worshiped Stendarr, Arkay and Mara?” The General asked confused.

She sighed, “I do, but that does not mean I do not see the truth. They are not mutually exclusive you know.”

“You honestly think a being as old as a divine can so easily change their entire being?” Erandur asked her softly.

“Of course I do, daedra do it often enough and they are the same beings. There is no evidence to refute that simple fact. It benefits them to be as they are now. Nothing else, but for now it is a mutual benefit so I hardly see the harm in it.” She looked back at the town, “So Vaermina then, why is she here?”

Erandur turned to look at decrepit stone tower sitting upon a hill overlooking the entire town and said, “That is Nightcaller temple, a very old temple of Vaermina that has become active once more.” 

“Active how, what happened to it?” She asked curiously

“Ah, there was an invasion of orcs a long time ago, they tore through the temple killing as they went. The battle raged for a while before the priests of Vaermina released the miasma.” He said in a soft voice, seeing the General forming a question he went on, “The Miasma is a gas of sorts, it puts any who inhale it into a deep sleep. Within the temple lays a source of power, Vaermina’s own skull of corruption, it is what is causing the nightmares, but how it has become active after all this time I do not know. All inside should be asleep, still under the influence of the miasma. We must go investigate and if we get the chance destroy the skull.” 

“Of course we’ll come with you—”

“Wait, how do we know we can trust you? You could just be leading us up there to our deaths, you seem to know an awful lot about that temple and what is going on for someone who just arrived this morning.” The General said sharply. 

“I was sent here by Mara to help, you must trust me I can not do this alone. We are the only hope these people have.” Erandur pleaded. 

“Did Mara also give you a new name? Why hide your old one?” the General folded his arms across his chest and looked at the old dunmer with hard eyes.

“I wished to start a new life without any ties to my old one. I have many regrets, if I had not severed the ties they would have pulled me under.” Erandur said, his voice once more lined with a deep sorrow that pulled at her heart strings.

“Enough of this, of course we will help. I trust you,” she looked at the General, “And he trusts me. Lead the way.” 

Erandur nodded and began walking the long winding path up the hill, the General pulled her back a bit until they were a few feet behind Erandur as they followed him, “Are you looking for trouble? I know you knew him when you were a child but that was over two hundred years ago! Obviously he is not the same person he was before, he has changed his name for goodness sake. People don’t do that unless they are hiding from something or someone.” 

She watched Erandur’s back and nodded, “I know but I can not simply abandon him to try this on his own. What if he is being honest? We’ll just have to watch him carefully, you’ll do that for me won’t you?” 

He gave her a resigned look, “You are insufferable.” She laughed as they caught up with Erandur. “So tell me Erandur, what was dear _Gaddy_ like as a child?”

“Inquisitive, curious, insatiable, stubborn as a mule, opinionated, determined, clever but she also had moments where she was very sweet. I remember one day I took her into the forest just a few miles away from Alinor where wild fruit and berries grew all over. I was teaching her how to tell which plants were poisonous and which ones were safe. I looked away for just a few seconds when she simply disappeared. I panicked for a good few minutes, I kept calling her name but she didn’t answer, then suddenly I heard a branch cracking in a tree a few feet away, I turned just in time for my magic to catch her. She nearly gave me a heart attack and once I was done lecturing and scolding her I asked what possessed her to climb up the tree in the first place. That’s when she held out an apple to me saying she wanted me to have it, I had mentioned I was hungry just minutes before we entered the forest and the child took it upon herself to get me an apple.” He shook his head, “As if I couldn’t get it for myself without her risking her neck.”

“One of the few times I remember you yelling.” She recalled fondly, the more memories that returned to her the more the ache in her chest grew as the pain of his leaving swelled within her. She could hear the the General and Erandur laughing and talking but all she could think of was the day she waited for him in the fields outside of her home where they usually met and he never showed up. She went every day for an entire month, her parents had tried to convince her he wasn’t returning but she didn’t believe them. He had never shown up and she was left wondering what she had done wrong to chase him away. There was a lull in the conversation and she breathed in deeply to steady her nerves and said, “Why did you leave me?”

He paused in his tracks just for a few seconds before continuing, “That is a long story Gadheriel.”

“A story I’ve waited over two hundred years for! I think I deserve an answer after all this time, you left me! Just up and disappeared leaving me behind like I was nothing.” She said fiercely, her voice shaking with pent up emotion.

“You had two parents who loved you dearly, a servant who loved you as her own and several other tutors who were invested in you. I didn’t think you’d mind my disappearance so much. It is not as if you’d be alone, neglected and unloved.” He replied as if it had been rehearsed. 

“I loved _you_ though, and you were just gone. I waited every day for you in the fields, I traveled all over the Isles looking for you in all of the places you’d take me but you weren’t there. What did I do wrong?” She asked, “Tell me, I need to know.”

He turned to her then, “You did nothing wrong child. I had made some bad choices, I fell in with some people that were dangerous. I was afraid they would find me, and if they found me with you…I couldn’t risk it. I left the Summerset Isles and never went back.” 

She frowned, “What people? Where are they now?” She looked at him as suspiciously as the General had, it seemed too convenient a lie, something far too put together to be true. What if the General was right? What if she didn’t know Erandur as well as she thought she did? After all how much does a ten year old really know about an adult? About anyone, or anything? 

“They are all dead now or driven insane.” He explained stoically as they finally reached the temple. It was far larger up there than it had looked from below. Though it looked even more dilapidated than it appeared from afar, “This place is barely standing, you sure it is safe to go in?” She asked doubtfully.

“As safe as it ever was, I am more concerned with what is going to happen when we disable the barrier. It will dissipate the miasma and those under its influence will wake. The longer one is in the induced sleep the more insane they become. I fear we’re going to have quite the fight on our hands.” He said, “You must be very careful, stick together and don’t take any body laying around for dead unless you put a sword through it.”

They stepped through the door into a dark worship area filled with broken pews and a lonesome podium at the front before a stone carving. She followed Erandur around the left side of the room where a shrine to Mara had been erected on a small table. Erandur stopped and prayed at it for a second, she wandered around the room. She could hear the footsteps of the General close behind her she turned to him with a questioning look, “I do not trust this place.” He replied quietly.

She wandered behind the podium looking at the stone carving curiously, “There is something wrong about this stone carving.”

“That’s because it’s hideous.” The General said wryly.

She chuckled and looked at him, a rush of gratitude for him washing through her. He had chosen to come with her even though he was uneasy with it because she wanted to help a friend and he wanted to keep an eye out for her, and only a few hours after his friends had died and he had been detained and beaten by the brutish stormcloak-sided guards. “That is not what I meant. There is magicka infused in this stone. Don’t you feel it?”

He shook his head, “All I feel is cold and uneasy. This place gives me the creeps. We should just be demolishing it completely.”

She shook her head, “Perhaps after we search the place and get everything of value out. I’ll bring it up to my superiors.” She grabbed his hands in hers, “Every being in Tamriel has magicka in them, even humans. You have much less than elves do and it is harder for your kind to wield it but it is there nonetheless. Here.” She pulled off his gloves, “Raise your hands like this.” She raised her hands in the air palms facing him, the back of her hands facing her as if she was pressing against an invisible wall. “Place your hands just an inch away from mine so they almost touch.” When he did so she breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. She cleared her mind and sunk deep inside of her until she reached her magicka, she gathered enough and pushed it gently out of her fingers tips. It crackled around his fingers, sparks flying between them then a thin blue thread weaved between his fingers. “That is what magicka feels like.” Her eyes opened and took him in, his face had softened and he seemed entranced, he shivered. “Close your eyes.”

Her magicka melted into the flesh of his fingers, he gasped, goosebumps spreading up his arms and as her magicka spread from his fingers up his arms, to his shoulders, up his neck and chest, and finally down to his legs, as it spread the hair on his body stood up and he gasped arching his back. She searched carefully for the magicka within him, “Clear your mind and follow my magicka. Think of nothing but the feeling of my magicka, you will find it.” It took her a few minutes more before she found it laying latent within him. It wasn’t a physical thing, but just as the soul resided within the body so did the magicka. In fact the two were very close to each other, but untangling the soul and the magicka was difficult especially in a person who rarely used their magicka if at all. She slowly untangled the two carefully not wanting to injure him, and when his presence finally reached her she pressed the thread of his magicka she had untangled into his conscious self, trying to meld the two, tie them together so he could find and use his magicka much easier in the future. She used her own magicka to wrap around the fused part of his consciousness and magicka until the two were secure than slowly left his body as carefully as she had entered.

She watched him as he shuddered and slowly cracked his eyes open, “Wh-what the hell was that?”

“Your magicka is no longer locked away from you. Usually a person unlocks it and melds with it as a young child or very young adult, if not it tangles too much with your soul and life force and is far more dangerous to separate. I separated and melded it together. You don’t have to use it but now you have the opportunity to do so, with some training of course.” She explained, she turned to the stone carving and said, “Raise your hands and place them near the carving but not on. You know what magicka feels like now, tell me what your magicka feels in this carving.”

His brows furrowed as he followed her instructions, she could tell he was concentrating, “Don’t try so hard, let it come more naturally. It is not like a sword and shield where you can just bash it against something.” She said amused, she stepped behind him and pressed on his shoulders, “Relax. Not so tense. It won’t be easy to do this at first, but the more you use it the easier it will be, just like any other muscle. Breathe deeply, relax, try again.” He nodded and his face went slack as his muscles loosened and he tried once more. 

A few seconds later his eyes shot open, “I felt it. The carvings magicka, it feels nothing like ours, it is far more twisted..” He frowned as he spoke, “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Yes our magicka feels like water almost, very fluid, but this magicka feels more dense and polluted. It feels wrong.” She nodded, looking at him pleased.

“Ah my daughter, you would make a fine teacher.” Erandur spoke up from behind them, “You should consider it, there are plenty of people like the General who need instruction.”

“I am no teacher, nor do I care to be. I am not responsible for those people, if they wanted to use their magicka they have plenty of options.” She said stiffly, “So what about this carving?”

“Stand back, allow me to show you.” Erandur said, they shifted away from the carving as he raised his hands and sent a jet of flames towards it. For many seconds the flames lapped over the carving until it slowly became translucent and a door way could be seen. 

“Oh wow, that is amazing alteration magicka, how did they make it with a destruction key though?” She turned to look at the General, “Destruction magic and Alteration magic usually can not be mixed. It has very bad results.” 

Erandur looked at her, “With a Daedric Prince’s help there isn’t much that is impossible. I am surprised you didn’t master in destruction.” He studied her.

The General looked surprised as he looked at her, “I thought you were? Isn’t it a requirement for the Thalmor?”

She frowned and folded her arms across her chest, as if that made her any less of a mage or Thalmor. She scowled, “Usually yes, I am still very well-versed in Destruction but once I reached expert level I didn’t see the point of going further. I have mastered Alteration and Conjuration both far more powerful, useful and reliable than destruction.” 

Erandur smiled a little, “At least that hasn’t changed about you. Always so headstrong and adamant of doing things your way but she is correct. Destruction may be powerful but the cost of casting destruction spells from thin air is heavy, and you will easily deplete yourself if you are not careful. It also doesn’t help if your enemies have resistances to certain elements, and it certainly does not help if you’re trying to be subtle about it.” He said as he led them through the magical barrier and into a hallway that spiraled down. She approached the caged windows and looked down upon a strange object protected within a magical barrier. “Yes, that is the Skull of corruption. The very thing feeding on the people of Dawnstar. We must get to it.” He turned sharply away and led them down the hallway.

She stayed close to the General, whispering in his ear, “He is hiding something, a magical lock is very precise, you need to know the exact spell to cast on it. No one has ever made an alteration and destruction combination before, how did he know that fire unlocked it?” She felt the General stiffen and look at her sharply but her eyes remained on Erandur’s back. Something wasn’t right and she couldn’t stop the dread crawling up her spine.

“We should go, this could be a trap. How do we know that this skull of corruption is even what is affecting the townspeople? All we have is his word and he is obviously lying about something.” The General murmured, his eyes now pinned on Erandur sharply. She had a feeling that Erandur wouldn’t be able to so much as blink without the General knowing about it making her feel slightly better. 

“We can’t leave now, even if the skull of corruption isn’t what is causing the current issue it will eventually cause problems. It needs to be destroyed.” She whispered back, “Just becareful.” She sighed, it wasn’t ideal but if her old tutor wasn’t going to be forthright with them it was all they could do.

They followed the spiraling hallway until they came to a glowing blue barrier over a door and in front of the barrier were two orcs laying on the floor. Erandur raised his mace as they began to slowly come to, she readied her magicka and the General unsheathed his blade. The orcs rushed at them, their eyes glowing with a demented light, Erandur jumped in front of of the second orc smashing him in the face with the mace. The other one came rushing at them the General ran forth to meet him in battle without a thought. She cursed and cast a shield of protection around the General before she conjured two dremora. They spawned out of oblivion to the side of the orc screaming, “You are weak mortal!” and “I honor my lord by destroying you!” The General faltered in shock, stepping back and nearly dropping his sword. Her heart was thrumming in her chest as the orc brought his sword down upon the defenseless General. She yelled out as the sword struck the General who jerked back with the strength of the blow, yellow sparks showering down on the two. In her panic she had forgotten the shield she had just cast over him, she cursed herself for her forgetfulness, it had been a long while since she fought alongside someone else. She strengthened the shield spell around him as one dremora shoved his sword through the orcs back and the other decapitated him, blood splattering everywhere. Erandur had been backed into a corner and was reduced to blocking the rapid and brutal blows of the orc, the dremora’s turned their attention to the orc and shoved their swords through him before returning to her side.

Both Erandur and the General looked at her in shock, “You control Dremora….you were not exaggerating your mastery.” Erandur said slightly impressed.

She felt heat rise in her cheeks and nodded, “Yes, when I traveled alone they often kept me company.”

“You befriended daedra to stave off your loneliness?” the General exclaimed.

She huffed, “They can not help their natures, just as a wolf can not help hunting the rabbit. They are not one dimensional either.” Her arms crossed over her chest. The General shook his head but a smile played around his lips. 

Erandur turned to the magical barrier and sighed, “It seems a barrier was constructed when the miasma was released sealing it off from the rest of the temple. Interesting, I wonder if any of the priests were able to remain conscious behind the barrier. We need to get through this barrier, there is no other way around, we must go through this door way. I think there is a chance, a possibility of getting one of us through the barrier. I need to make sure, we need to go to the library.” He began walking back up the hallway but neither the General or her moved.

They looked at one another for a second before the General spoke up, “You seem to know an awful lot about the temple. You knew fire would unlock the carving, and now we find out you know exactly where everything is in the temple. You’re hiding something from us and we will not go any further until you tell us exactly what that is.” His hand tightened on his sword as he glared at the man.

Erandur looked between them, she felt her heart thudding in her chest, she took a tentative step forward, “You’re not the man I remember, Erandur. What has happened? I want to help but how can I if you lie?”

Erandur faltered and looked down, “You are right of course. I knew I’d have to tell you the truth eventually. I just didn’t think you’d want to help me if you knew. The bad people I fell in with all those years ago was a cult of Vaermina, I became interested in the divinities and stumbled upon them, they welcomed me into the fold and then we left for Skyrim where we built this temple. I became a priest of Vaermina and for many years this was my home, I was known as brother Casimir but then the orcs attacked, we were losing, we had to release the Miasma as our last defense but I was frightened and after I released the Miasma I ran. I had done such terrible things in the service of Vaermina, and left my brothers and sisters to die, I couldn’t live with that guilt any longer so I begged Mara for forgiveness and became her priest and when Dawnstar became troubled she sent me back here to deal with the problem I had helped create as penance.”

Silence met his explanation, the General growled, but she just felt numb and unsure of what to think. He had left her to torment people and then abandoned the people he left her for. The dunmer may have been an intelligent and kind tutor but he was a coward, and she felt her respect for him fading a bit. She shook her head, “And you dare tell me how I should live. At least I am no coward.” She said coldly walking by him, “Let’s go, we have a skull to destroy.”

The General glared at the priest but followed her, she stopped in front of the only other door and waited for Erandur to unlock the library doors. He did so without a word and they walked into the room. She noted the odd walkways and set up but carefully shifted through the rubble, her eyes traveling over the broken down bookcases with destroyed books on them, she wondered what knowledge had once been stored in the pages of the destroyed books, disappointment that it was lost for ever filled her chest. “So Casimir, what exactly are we looking for?” 

He grimaced at the name but did not mention it, “It’s a very old and large tome, called the Dreamstride. It will have serpents on the cover. Perhaps we should—” he was interrupted by the screams of angry mages, the crackling shock magic washing over him.

She jumped in front of him, the dremora running at the two mages grabbing their attention. The General shoved his sword through one of the mage’s backs and the other she blasted with her strongest lightning spell. The air filled with heat and the strange tension that shock magic always caused, all their senses heightened and their ears rang with the loud crackling of her spell. The mage flew off her feet and was thrown ten feet until she slammed violently into the wall and dropped to the floor dead with her chest blackened and ripped open. The General looked both disgusted and impressed, “I guess she isn’t going to be getting up any time soon.” 

She raised her chin in pride and they began their search for the book, “I found it!” She called out a little while later. She raced down the steps and pressed the book into Erandur’s waiting hands. She peered over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages mumbling to himself. The General seemed far less fascinated by the book and tapped his foot impatiently, she rolled her eyes men so easily disregarded the very things that could help them.

“Here it is! Yes, it is as I suspected, excellent. Oh I just hope the alchemy lab is still in order, I daresay the orcs must have ransacked that room as well.” He sighed.

“Why exactly do we need to go to the alchemy lab? Explain yourself priest.” The General demanded sharply, hands on his hip. She snorted, it was always so endearing to watch a man threaten an elven mage, it was comparable to a small child of five threatening a full trained soldier of thirty-five. 

“Follow me and I shall explain.” He said as he began to make his way to a door she had failed to notice before, “There is a potion, called a Torpor, that will allow a person to slip into the dreamstride, and walking in the shoes of another. If all works as it should the person would relive my history and when they came out of the dreamstride would find themselves on the other side. You see the potion lets you use dreams to travel real distances in the waking world. It is quite amazing actually.”

The General looked uneasy at the prospect of imbibing a potion of that nature and from this elf, she couldn’t blame him, she knew she’d be the one ingesting it, not that she was very pleased with the prospect either. It was a lot of trust to give to a man who constantly abandoned those he proclaimed to care about in acts of undeniable cowardice. She sighed as more mages and orcs awoke, there was a handful in this room, far more than any other. Her dremora took on two and the three of them each took one. Thankfully they were rather disoriented and confused after being asleep for so long but not entirely helpless, apparently madness was a strange form of adrenaline to them, even so they fell relatively easy. It seemed that both the orcs and mages didn’t know who to attack first, each other or the new intruders. She nearly jumped as a loud thud and groan came from behind her as the General had slipped and fell on the floor. “Oh sorry….” She muttered trying to fight off a grin. She waved her hand over the floor dissipating the sheet of black ice she had place over it during the battle. She helped him up as he grumbled and glared at her. 

“The torpor should be in a tall bottle, it’s a dark liquid. Oh I do hope they haven’t destroyed everything.” Erandur sighed in a slightly whining tone that grated on her nerves. They spread out in search and this time it was the General who called out, “Is this it?” 

She studied the potion and nodded, “It seems so.” She passed it off to Erandur who nodded and said, “Yes, this is it, good work. I’m surprised any remained after these beasts trashed the place.” He looked at the torpor almost reverently before glancing up at her, “It would be best if you were the one to take this.” 

She nodded, “I figured.” She took the bottle, “What will happen when I take it? Is it dangerous?” 

“It shouldn’t be. I have never taken it myself but from what I read it should bring you into someone else’s memories and you should travel with them through the temple.” He explained, “If anything goes wrong I will watch over you and attempt to pull you out of it.”

“What do you mean, attempt to pull her out of it?” the General demanded harshly taking a step forward, “You mean you don’t know if you can?”

Erandur shook his head, “No, I have no experience with the torpor at all but I know enough about magicka that I could still possibly bring you back.” 

She looked between them before pulling the General aside, between the two of them she trusted the General more at the moment. He may not know how to bring her back but he would truly watch over her and make sure Erandur tried his damn hardest to bring her back. “You will watch over me?” She asked quietly looking into his eyes.

“I suppose trying to talk you out of it is out of the question at this point.” He said with exasperation, seeing the determined look on her face that he both respected and detested, he sighed, “Yes, I will watch over you. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything to harm you.” 

She nodded, “Alright then, here goes nothing.” She grabbed the torpor from Erandur and before she could change her mind drank it in one large gulp. It bubbled uncomfortably in her stomach that soon turned to an agonizing stabbing pain as if someone was ripping her insides apart with knives. She cried out and fell to her knees her arms wrapped around her midsection. She felt the General’s hand on her shoulder and his insistent voice calling her name.

“What the hell is happening? What did you do to her?” The General demanded in a vicious growl.

“I do not know what is happening, I haven’t even witnessed this process. Look!” Erandur pointed at her.

She could see herself fading but then she saw only blinding white light. Her head seemed to be splitting open, she opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. She was close to passing out when suddenly she felt like she shit a brick wall and her vision slowly returned but when it did she was no longer in the alchemy room with Erandur and Tullius. She was in a different room in the temple with two men in priest robes talking. She could hear the sounds of battles and orcs screaming obscenities nearby. She listened to the conversation quickly, realizing she was in Erandur’s memories when the men called her Casimir she suddenly realized what she had to do. The other two priests confirmed her suspicions, she’d have to pull the chain on the other side of the barrier to release the miasma. She ran through the temple dodging the swords of the orcs and the spells of the priests, she searched for the spiral hallway she was most familiar with. Finally she found it, she grabbed the soul gem off the altar and pulled the chain once more. She watched as the gas released feeling a sourness in her mouth at what was going on around her. She could not feel bad for the people that were inhaling the toxic gas, they had spelled their own fate but she hated Daedra with a passion. 

The world twisted before her eyes and then faded to blackness, panicking at the thought of being blind she called out, “Tullius?! Casimir!? Help me!” She groped around finding the wall, she could hear running footsteps and began carefully making her way towards them hoping they were friend and not foe. “Tullius?” Her vision slowly faded back in, dim and blurry at first but then normal once more. She was dizzy as she stumbled towards the General, he reached out and grabbed her by the arms, “Gadheriel, thank god, are you hurt?” 

She shook her head, “No, just a little dizzy. It’s disorienting. I was placed in Casimir’s memories of that day.” She explained as she held onto him for balance, she looked around noting that the barrier had dropped and they were in fact behind where it once was. Erandur looked at her with such regret in his eyes she almost forgave him, but it was easy to feel guilt, it wasn’t so easy to face your fears. 

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” He looked her over, “You disappeared, you were there one second and the next you just vanished. I thought this reckless fool had killed you.” He growled at the mention of Erandur.

“I’m alright I just need a few seconds.” She said quietly, she held on to him a bit longer, drawing strength from his presence. When she was more steady she looked at Erandur and nodded, “Let’s get this done.” They traveled through the large temple, fighting orcs and priests alike. The General stuck close by her and acted as her shield when he realized her magic was strong enough to take multiple targets on at once and the dremora she conjured once more could easily take out their enemies as well. They kept their backs facing each other to protect the other and easily cut through the disoriented enemies until finally they reached the doorway of the main chamber housing the skull of corruption. 

“This is it. We’ve finally reached the skull—” Erandur began.

“Brother Casimir, come to return to the flock after all this time?” two alive and sane elves stepped from around the corner, both dressed in priest robes and looking angry.

“Thorek, Veren, you are alive!” Erandur cried out in shock.

“No thanks to you.” Veren replied smoothly, “You betrayed us, you left us to die and fled, too scared to share the fate you have condemned us to.”

“I..I was scared, I wasn’t ready to sleep. I didn’t want to!” Erandur pleaded with them.

“Your lies end here you traitorous coward!” Veren roared as both her and Thorek ran forward throwing spells and clashing blades with Erandur.

She went to rush to his aid but the General held her back, whispering in her ear, “This is not our battle. This is a war between brothers, you must let him face the consequences of his actions.” She bit her lip and looked back at the General. She knew he was right, Erandur had to face those he betrayed instead of being a coward once more. Even if she was disgusted and disappointed in him she still remembered how he comforted her when she had been injured, how he had held her hand as they walked through the city, how he looked at her so fondly even all those years later. It took him a while but the old dunmer finally lifted his bloody mace victoriously, he looked at them sadly, “They were my friends once. My own brothers dead at my own hand.” 

“It was either you or them, better they are dead. They had nothing to offer anyone but pain and misery.” She said firmly, “One thing the Thalmor teach us quite early on is the cost of sacrifice and loss. The greater good must always be the choice regardless of your feelings.” 

“It is so easy for heartless elves—” he stopped himself and sighed, “It is not so simple for the rest of us.”

“No one said it would be easy. The right path is never easy. That’s your problem, only cowards choose the path of least resistance and ultimately they pay for it dearly.” She said firmly. 

“Not to break up this touching moment but are we here to destroy that thing or not?” The General piped up, they stared at him for a second and then she smiled at him.

“Of course, my apologies. I have grown morose in my old age. Let us rid the world of this foul contraption.” Erandur approached the altar and began chanting silently, his magic swirling around him. 

She watched curiously, trying to take in every step of a ritual she had never seen before. A chilly breeze swept through the room and felt like it settled in her very bones. A cold whisper filled her head, _“He’s deceiving you. When the ritual’s complete, the Skull will be free and then Erandur will turn on you. Quickly! Kill him now. Kill him and claim the Skull for your own! Vaermina commands you!”*_

Goosebumps ran up her arms and a chill swept down her spine, she shivered and tilted her head up, whispering, “I do not take orders from Daedra, especially one most people forget exist.” She did have a point though, why would she destroy the skull when she could take the power for the Thalmor? They hadn’t bothered with other daedric artifacts assuming they’d have to do the bidding of the Daedra for them but this one was right here for the taking. All she would have to do is kill Erandur. Her old tutor who would braid flowers together and crown her queen for a day, who helped her get over her fear of bugs, who had become an uncle to her. She tilted her chin up, he was no longer that elf, he had thrown it all away including his name. He had went from Uncle Casimir to priest to an evil daedra tormenting people in her command, to Erandur the coward that always ran away from anything difficult. He was destined to live out the last few decades of his life in sorrow and guilt as a pitiful priest. When he once was a respected mage asked to tutor Altmer’s children. It would be more merciful to kill him than to let him live like he was, not even a shadow of his former self. And then the Thalmor would have an indispensable tool at their hands.

How could she be so selfish to forsake the Thalmor, and in turn all of Tamriel, to spare her old tutor? No, she had to do this, she had to obtain the skull for her people. It had to be done. Her hands shook as she began to walk towards Erandur, she clenched them trying to steady her nerves. She was a Thalmor commander now, not a small child at the side of someone she loved. She conjured a daedric blade and thrust it deep into Erandur’s chest, her arm around his throat. Their eyes connected, his red ones filled with both surprise and betrayal. Her heart skipped a beat and her chest tightened, “It had to be done, I hope one day you will forgive me Uncle Casimir.” He tried to speak but only blood bubbled out of his mouth and then one last gasp as his last breath left his body and his eyes glazed over. She let go of him, allowing his dead body to fall unceremoniously to the ground in a heap of blood. She stepped over him and grabbed the staff, she smiled as she ran her hands over it, “Perfect. Elenwen will be pleased, somewhat.” She turned back to Tullius and noticed his look of horror. 

He was silent, his stare of shock and disgust was enough to tell her how he felt but it didn’t last long, “You murdered your own friend as if he meant nothing to you.”

She looked at him, remaining expressionless even if inside her heart was twisting painfully, “It had to be done. There was no other choice.”

“You could have let him destroy the skull, that was the entire reason we came!” He shouted angrily, looking between her and Erandur’s body.

“We came to break the magic holding Dawnstar in its grip. We have done that, so why destroy an object of power after the fact? It is far more useful alive. The greater good is more important than anything else.” She said firmly.

He looked appalled for a second before his brows furrowed angrily, “You can not give the skull to the Thalmor. You mustn’t, you know what they will do with it.” 

“Yes, they will have a leg up in this war, as they should. If we, the Thalmor, can use this to win over Tamriel to change it for the better than we shall.” She replied.

“Do you have no conscience? What of the people that the Thalmor will torment when they unleash it? Have you ever thought of the cost? I thought we were becoming friends, and yet you would allow them to use this against me.” His voice was fierce.

“You have become my friend Tullius but even you are not more important than the Thalmor. The Thalmor are the greater good, and sometimes one must sacrifice for the greater good, no matter how painful it is.” She looked back at Erandur, her heart contracting, “He was not who he used to be, not the elf I remember him being but I did love him dearly for everything he had taught me and done for me.” 

She shoved her rising emotions down and straightened her back, “Sometimes the best thing a flower can do for us is die.”** 


	7. The Journey: Whiterun Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2, Whiterun was too long for one chapter :) Hope you like it.
> 
> I still don't own anything of Skyrim or Bethesda

  
The wind howled viciously, biting her exposed face bitterly as she climbed the mountain side. Snow was falling heavily, the wind stirring it into a thick blinding blizzard making it hard to see. She blinked trying to get the snow clinging to her lashes off, her cheeks hurt with the cold and both her nose and lips were numb. They had to get out of the blizzard soon or they would either freeze or lose the path and fall down the mountain. Before leaving Dawnstar she had gotten directions from the innkeeper to Wayward pass, she knew they had to be close. The muscles in her legs were shaking and protesting with each step, her back was killing her and she couldn’t feel a single drop of warmth in her body. She didn’t know why she was bothering to wear the heavy fur coats and boots, they didn’t seem to offer any protection to the elements but added weight. For most of the journey she had warmed herself with flames she created, sometimes even clearing the path with a wall of fire, but she had grown too tired to bother with it now, choosing instead to spend her remaining energy trudging through the knee-high snow against bitter winds through a blizzard on the side of a mountain she was climbing. It all seemed rather foolish when she thought of it that way but there was no going back now. She knew if she was doing this poorly the General had to be doing far worse, but she dreaded looking at him, worried she’d have to meet his eyes again.

They had argued in the depths of Vaermina’s temple for quite a while, neither willing to budge, before they wandered back to town. She decided it would make more sense to gather more supplies and rest one more night there before continuing her journey; the General spent the remainder of their stay in Dawnstar trying to convince her to do what he thought was right. They yelled and screamed, things had been thrown and kicked, logical arguments spilled forth, even a bribe was offered before the General had lowered himself to pleading and begging her. She refused to relent and to insure against the temptation to steal the skull she warded it heavily and kept it on her at all times. It had bothered her to see him so desperate and to deny him the very thing he needed, especially when he had given her so much. She could feel the resentment and anger coming off of him and the humiliation in his eyes. She had to stop herself from reaching out to him, worried any kindness might make him think there was still a chance she might relent. She knew he was a prideful man and rightfully so, undoubtedly his pride took a blow when he had resigned himself to begging, to be rejected just added insult to injury. Usually men begging disgusted and repulsed her, but she knew the only reason he had done so was to save his people. A prideful man willing to shame himself by begging for the sake of his people, however, did not earn such revile but only garnered her respect. Eventually his eyes had darkened and he had given up, refusing to speak to her since but he did not leave her, instead choosing to follow behind her in silence. She could feel his eyes on her often, she could almost hear his mind churning, trying to come up with some plot to steal the skull from her and every once in a while a frustrated sigh as he undoubtedly found a flaw in his plan.

She hadn’t been able to meet his eyes since, but still she could not give in to him, after all it was he who constantly reminded her that this was a war. She was sure that had the tables been turned he would see no problem in using the skull against her people, in fact she wondered if that is why he wanted it so desperately, after all he had no training in the arcane arts and therefore no idea how to destroy it. Even if he never used it he’d give it to the Empire asking them to keep it safe but she knew how that’d end up. They’d use it regardless of the General’s intent, certainly he had to know that as well but instead his people were more important and valuable than her own, as always with men somehow they find themselves more valuable. She scoffed, men who had brought nothing but misery and pain, murder and rape to the lands and their people somehow were more valuable than elves who had lived in peace amongst one another, or at least left each other alone for the most part. Her lip curled as the acidic taste of bitterness filled her mouth and dripped down her throat. She swallowed against it in an effort to shove down the festering hatred and resentment that had been swelling within her for sometime, she hadn’t noticed it at first, it had crept in over time and took up residence in her heart and mind, it fed on the compassion she once had for men until there was none left. Instead it had turned on her, eating away at her and eroding her, she didn’t know how to stop it or if she even wanted to. She had shown them mercy and compassion but they had shown her hatred and cruelty in return. It wasn’t fair, nor was it fair that she was just supposed to let it go, that they just get away with treating her that way because she just happened to be born an elf. If no one else would give her justice and hold them accountable, she would. The men that had tortured her may be dead but it was the nords way of life, their society and culture that had sowed those seeds, and she would purify them all if she had to in order to cleanse Tamriel of all those with evil and ill intent towards another. That was the entire reason she joined the Thalmor to begin with, not to become friendly with mankind, perhaps her suffering had been meant as a reminder; the proof was in the pudding because so long as she remembered no one would ever get the chance to harm her like that again.

She squinted her eyes trying to see through the blizzard, it was a hopeless endeavor, the only thing they could do was to keep going forward hoping they were on the path. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage and looked behind her to see how the General was doing. He looked just as miserable as she felt, she could see the beginning signs of frostbite on his cheeks and nose and knew they had to go faster. She picked up the pace, wincing with every step. She shoved the pain down shifting her attention off of it until it became unbearable. She counted her steps forcefully to keep herself going, trying to ignore the pained grunts as the General struggled to keep up. She pulled her leg from the snow bank and took a step forward, her foot sank deep into the snow trying to find solid ground but when she shifted her weight her foot slipped off the small ledge it had found and she flew face first into the snow. She slowly stood up her bones and muscles screaming at her, and looked back at the General, “We’re off the path.” She said breathlessly, her heart hammered in her chest, worry piercing her cloak of denial and the pain came rushing forth. 

“What do you mean we’re off the path, we’ve followed his directions! “ The General snapped, his own eyes taking in their dire situation. It would be nightfall soon, they would never make it back to town before the temperature dropped farther.

“Let’s back track maybe we can figure out where we took a wrong turn.” She said quietly. She chewed her lip, she didn’t know much about surviving in harsh conditions but she knew not to panic even if inside she wanted to sit and cry. She expected him to be angry, or complain, maybe even argue with her but instead he nodded in agreement and turned around. The blizzard made it hard for her to see their footprints but they were there nonetheless, “You have the better eyes, I will keep my eye on our footprints and you keep your eyes out for any sign of a path.”

He didn’t reply but she figured that meant he agreed, at least he had talked to her even if it was only one short sentence, she didn’t feel quite so alone anymore. She hadn’t realized how his silence had affected her until just then, apparently she hadn’t cut out every part of her that still cared about men. She shook her head, just a day ago they had exchanged soft touches and now they couldn’t bare to look or speak to each other. This man had no right to evoke such feelings within her, no matter how honorable, kind, passionate, loyal, and dependable he was. 

She noticed with dread the further they backtracked the fainter the foot prints became as the relentless blizzard caved them in with snow until eventually they disappeared altogether. She stopped short, grunting as he walked into her, she nearly tipped over but he grabbed her arm and kept her upright. She looked over her shoulder, her voice quivering, “Our footprints are gone, did you find anything?” 

He shook his head, “There’s nothing. Maybe we were in the right area and the markers were destroyed.” He offered with little hope residing in his voice. 

She nodded quietly and they turned back around once more, she was growing more tired and yearned to just magically find a warm inn with a soft bed before a fireplace to rest at, but she didn’t think that was very likely. Many minutes later she discovered the imprint of her body in the snow and looked around, all she could see was snow, trees and rocks jutting out, but no stacked stones with red banners on them. “What now?” She said stiffly as panic clawed at her throat. 

“We need to find a leveled area to make camp. We’re not going to make it anywhere tonight, we’re tired and cold. We’ll just get ourselves lost even more. Best to set up camp now while we can still see and hope the wind dies down by tomorrow.” He said as he looked around, he moved forward towards a patch of trees just diagonal from them, “Over here looks safe.”

“What do you mean set up camp? Are you insane, we’ll freeze in the snow! The innkeeper said we could get through the pass in one day and to a farm house at the foot of the mountain and you want to spend the night in the snow? What are we animals?!” 

“We won’t freeze, trust me. It may not be luxurious but we will survive.” He looked back at her, “Don’t worry you’ll still get your chance to torture innocent civilians.”

She pressed her lips together and followed him silently, gritting her teeth. It would not do to waste any of her remaining energy arguing with him. She looked around the flat patch of earth and began collecting fallen sticks and thick branches for a fire. She piled it up using some of her parchment for the base and lit it, shoving it deep inside the pile of sticks. She sat as close to the fire as she dared and noticed the General doing the same thing, her face slowly warmed and feeling returned to her lips and fingers. “So what, are we going to sleep in front of the fire?”

He snorted, “No, the fire will go out eventually without someone feeding it, and without the fire we’ll be in the open air. We’re going to have to use the snow to insulate us.”

Her eyes narrowed, “You want us to bury ourselves in the snow.” Her lips curled, “In what world does that sound like a good idea?!” She shook her head, he had finally lost it. Perhaps exhaustion had dulled his mind, or perhaps he was feeling ill after being in the cold for so long. It was the only way to explain such ridiculous and reckless ideas. Bury herself in the snow in order to keep herself warm from the cold air? 

He sighed, “I am surprised the Thalmor don’t teach basic survival skills to their agents. At least we have a leg up there. The snow will protect us from the night air and keep the heat of our bodies contained in a small area rather than floating into the night air.” 

She looked at the ground distastefully, “I suppose you’d frown upon the idea of burning a few trees.” 

“Undoubtedly.” He said flatly, “You can do whatever you please, your life isn’t my concern after all.” He walked a few feet away from the fire and began shoveling out a seven foot long, 3 feet wide and 3 feet deep grave in the snow. She watched, fascinated by his plan, did men normally do this? How often could they possibly get stuck traveling in the snow without civilization near by? Or was he simply trying to trick her in order to weaken, or possibly kill, her to get the skull? She knew the General cared for the Empire and its people fiercely, that he would give anything for them. He would probably kill his own mother if doing so would save the Empire. She had no doubt that he could easily cause her harm and in the end may do so. It fascinated her that he railed against her loyalty to the Thalmor but didn’t see how he was the same way about the Empire. She supposed though if a person thought their side was right it would be easy to dismiss it. 

By the time night fell they were nearly frozen solid, their coats and outer linens were stiff and wet with snow and ice, and they shivered violently. She knew then that she would not survive the night if she did not sacrifice her pride. She walked over to the grave the General had dug for himself and found him sitting in it trying to shovel snow on top of himself, he looked up at her. She bit her lip and sighed, her pride would never recover from this she was sure, stiffly, through nearly pursed lips she asked, “Can I join you?”

At first he just looked at her quietly as if he didn’t hear her or comprehend what she said before he shifted to his side making room for her, she breathed out in relief, she had been worried that he would deny her and make her beg only to reject her like she had done to him. She hadn’t wanted him to beg, but he had and it still bothered her. She lowered herself next to him and shifted on to her side so they faced each other and she helped him shovel snow over them. When they were encased in the snow they made some breathing holes and then tried to carefully pack the snow around them so they had some wiggle room. They were pressed tightly together even after packing the snow but this worked in their favor as their body heat warmed the space. It had an added benefit for her, when she had healed him and they had exchanged soft touches it had made her realize, to her own shame and embarrassment, that she liked the comfort. It was like a balm on her frayed nerves, she was able to relax in those moments, it was stressful and tiring to be on her guard at all times, tense and wary of another ambush. As much as she liked the comfort she hated wanting it, she felt weak and inadequate when before she had been strong enough to stand on her own. 

She could feel the tension leave her body as she rested her face against his shoulder and curled into him. She rested her hands against his chest and breathed out heavily as exhaustion took over. He remained unmoving and silent, she never knew silence could be sharp and painful as this one was. She tilted her face up towards his and said, “Have you figured out a plan to get the skull away from me yet that is both feasible, plausible and doable?”

His brows furrowed in irritation, he glared down at her, “I see the prospect of my people’s suffering is humorous to you.” He replied icily. 

She could have kicked herself for saying something so stupid, she had been trying to lighten the mood, perhaps reconcile their differences without having to give up the skull and she just had to say the wrong thing. “I didn’t mean that, I just….oh nevermind. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Of course it doesn’t, after all we’re just humans so we don’t matter. You rail against what men did to the elves but then turn around and do the same. There is a word for that: hypocrisy.” His voice was clipped and short, as if even insulting her or calling her out was more than he wanted to give her.

“We do so to create peace in the end, your kind do it for the love of power and domination over others that aren’t you.” 

“How is proving elven superiority in any way helpful or building peace between the races?” Tullius demanded, “I’d love to know, you must excuse my ignorance as I am only a human and therefore do not have the mental capacity to understand immediately, as you know us humans have stunted intelligence.”

She glared at him, “If we can prove our superiority, than people will see our way of life as superior and will eventually adapt to it. Our way being of peace before our invasion and before Tiber Septim. Model by example, but obviously that hasn’t worked, so first we need to be in control, be the ones in leadership of all people so they must look to us first. Once they begin to live it they will realize eventually how much better their lives are. Some of my kind interpret it much differently, of which I have no control. Just like you have no control of the awful things Imperial soldiers have done, even in Skyrim.”

“Hmmm.” He said thoughtfully, “And the torture, murder, lies, domination, abuse along the way is all in the name of peace is it and not just a source of entertainment for your comrades?”

She sighed, “There is no need for the torture and abuse, or outright murder outside of war but in times of war it is often necessary to commit such atrocities, the entertainment derived from such activities by my comrades is simply a byproduct but not the cause of it.” 

He frowned, and shifted to make himself more comfortable. A crease appeared between his brows, “I must ask, have you ever tortured?” 

She gazed into his eyes and noticed the confliction within them, “Once, during the Great War.” She said numbly, she could remember that night clearly, gods she wished she didn’t. The imperial womans teary pain filled eyes and horrid piercing screams still haunted her. It was not an experience she wished to repeat, she shuddered and curled up even more. She had felt dirty for years afterward as if the world knew what she had done, like she was forever marked as a monster, scarred by her own actions. “I promised her that if she’d just tell me what I needed to know I would escort her back home and when she finally broke I tried so hard to keep that promise but in the end I watched the life fade from her eyes.” She felt hollow inside, the only thing inside a bitter cold wind.

“Who was she?” Tullius asked softly in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Her name was Martina Agrudilius.” Her voice shook slightly, “She was just a seventeen year old girl, she had no military training at all, she had been drafted into the Legion. She had worried, loving parents and siblings at home on the farm she helped them take care of. She was in charge of the goats, they were like kids to her, her favorite was Marionna.” Her lips were shaking as the vision of the red headed, blue eyed teenager strapped to the rack her eyes wide and terrified as tears streamed down her face washed over her, she breathed in sharply, “I was trying to help her. When the regiment came back they had only managed to capture her, her fellow soldiers when they realized they had lost and could not escape had killed themselves but she was too scared to follow suit. Most of our people were in the field or otherwise occupied, our Lieutenant wanted her tortured for information but there was only me and Esdero available. He was an ugly mer, very cruel and sadistic, he reveled in his work, he thought it a beautiful art form to be appreciated. I couldn’t let that innocent little girl be at his mercy so I said I would do it. Esdero had a fit but my Lieutenant gave the job to me, I tried to be kind and give her breaks but they demanded results and threatened to give her to Esdero if I couldn’t get them so I had to step it up. I healed her after every session, it was the only comfort I could give her.” Gods how she hated remembering the girl, she was just a child, an innocent in this war she was forced to fight in. She may have only been a human but she was still a living being with feelings. She hated how her colleagues treated farm animals better then they did mankind. No one deserved what that poor girl had been through, she wasn’t a nord after all.

She didn’t realize her hands were also shaking until the General wrapped his fingers around them gently, her eyes rose to meet his prepared to see the disgust and anger in them but instead she found sorrow and a keen understanding, “If you give them the skull you will be torturing hundred-thousands of Martina’s, don’t you see? One can not give another the ability to cause pain and misery and then wipe their hands clean and deny they had anything to do with it, and that they are not at fault.”

She swallowed thickly, “Don’t you believe in the old saying? ‘The ends justify the means’.” The words came out of her mouth rehearsed as if she had said it a million times to herself and it was just a natural every day thing to say but for her it was, and to her it was also true. What wouldn’t a person give if they could bring peace? If they could eliminate war, death, suffering, pain, famine, disease, what wouldn’t a person sacrifice to give future generations a better life? Would a woman not sacrifice everything if it meant her kid would be safe, healthy and happy for as long as they lived without having to worry about being robbed, murdered, raped or having to live through a time of war? 

“You speak as if the end you seek is guaranteed, but surely you know by now that nothing is guaranteed.” He said his thumbs stroking over her hands gently, “Have you considered that your fellows do not hold your beliefs?”

She frowned her brows furrowing, “How can that be, we’ve all taken an oath to uphold the Thalmor’s mission statement. Every one of us, some are more exacting, ruthless and cruel about it, out of some perverted joy or overzealousness, I do not deny that a lot of my colleagues have deep hatred for mankind but that does not mean that they do not uphold the very mission statement they stand behind.” 

He scoffed, “Surely you are not that naive, Gadheriel. I think you know deep down that your people have ulterior motives to do what they do, they just dress it up to make it look pretty to lure elves like you in and to subjugate the other races. I assure you they are hiding their true intentions and motivations. You have to know this, why else would someone who professes to care so much about Tamriel and its people go around destroying the very thing they are trying to save? Do not live in denial to save yourself from the harsh truth.”

She frowned, was that what she was doing? Was she fooling herself into believing something she wanted so desperately to be true to relieve her own guilt at joining an organization based on hatred and bigotry? Surely there had to be others like her, perhaps the ideals had been twisted by those with darker inclinations, maybe over time they had eroded into something less noble. Even if they had though, it was true. Men were inferior, that did not mean they were less valuable or important. Mankind was a source of pain for elves, Tamriel and even themselves, especially nordic humans whose very culture was based on violence. If left unchecked they would destroy everyone else like they had destroyed the Snow elves, and the many cultures they had dominated and subjugated. How many more genocides would men have to commit before it would be deemed acceptable for the elves to take back control of Tamriel? Since the day they landed in Tamriel all they’ve brought is violence, but Tamriel was not their homeland, they had a home and decided that wasn’t enough they just had to come to the homeland of elves and than had the gall to subjugate, abuse and kill them. Why didn’t they deserve what they got? Perhaps that was spiteful and vindictive, but she thought the dead and those grieving them would disagree. 

She was conflicted in a way she never had been before she had met the General, she both agreed with the Thalmor ideals as they read, but hated the interpretation. She both recognized men as equals but loathed their existence. She wanted to save them and condemn them at the same time, and this man in front of her was the cause of it all. She had never doubted her own people before, had never thought of the debt they were driving up. She looked at him quietly, studying him up close, she certainly didn’t wish this man harm even if he was stubborn but what could she do? Betray her people for one man? For all of mankind, mankind who had caused such harm, who had tortured her? Would she condemn this man, and all of the Martina’s in the world to torture, subjugation and possibly if the General was right, to death to spite the type of men who had harmed her? The seething hatred and suffocating bitterness welled up in her, angry at the men who had harmed her and taken so much from her. Angry at the man in front of her for making her care enough about him that she began to doubt everything she had dedicated her life to. What was there to salvage of her life? 

“I must believe as I do, there is nothing else for me. Don’t you understand?” She peered up at him, “It is too late, we are in it now. And I may not wish you harm but I can not stand idly by on the sidelines as my people die in the coming war. I will not betray them in favor of men.” He looked away but she grabbed his chin and pulled his head back around, “Tell me General, would you abandon your men to die because I am your friend?”

“No, don’t you see that is why I want the skull?” He growled.

“Can’t you see that is why I can’t give you the skull?” She returned, her voice becoming steel. Maybe her people were wrong, maybe they were just sadistic arrogant elves, but they were still her people. She could not turn her back on those under her command, they looked to her to lead and keep them safe, they trusted her. She cared deeply for the mer assigned to her regiment, they were her responsibility not the enemy General. 

“Then we destroy it, it is the only solution that is fair to both parties.” He said in a firm, commanding tone, no doubt his ‘I’m-a-General-giving-orders’ voice she mused. 

“I can’t do that, you know I can’t. I killed Casimir for it, his death will have been for naught if I destroy it.” Her voice wavered in regret as a new pain blossomed in her chest. Should she have let him destroy it? Would that have been the right thing to do? The right thing for whom though? She had sacrificed the last family member she had for the skull, for the Thalmor and now he was asking her to destroy the skull and betray the Thalmor. Casimir’s face drifted into her mind, the shock and betrayal in his dimming eyes clear for all to see as he gazed at her, but hadn’t he betrayed her first? Hadn’t he abandoned her for the love of a daedric prince and torturing men? Then he had the gall to turn around and criticize her for doing the same but with better intentions. Her breath came in sharp, shallow pants as both resentment and sorrow warred for dominance within her. 

“He cared enough about you to tell you what he thought, I believe you would harm him more by staying on the path he warned you against.” His voice was quiet. She breathed in deeply, not sure if the man was being sincere or simply trying his best to convince her to do as he wanted. Casimir would be happy if he knew she had chose mercy over subjugation, but would he be pleased enough to think that his death was worth it? Would he forgive her as her parents had? She had sacrificed every person she ever loved to the Thalmor, to leave now would be foolish. She could only go forward and hope for a good ending but what if the ending was something she had to make and the beginning of the end she envisioned lay in this choice? Her head was cloudy and her eyes ached with exhaustion. She yawned and snuggled closer to him basking in the warmth his body offered. Her face pressed against his neck letting her hot breath trickle down his bare skin. 

“Maybe, but he is dead now. Please I can think no more tonight, I do not have the energy to fight any more.” She said bleakly, she heard him sigh but relax into the ground beneath them. She stayed awake only a few minutes more trying to memorize the feeling of being held before falling into a deep sleep.

When she awoke she was well rested and warm, her body ached thoroughly from laying on the hard ground but still she didn’t want to open her eyes or get up. She couldn’t even if she wanted to, sometime during the night Tullius had wrapped his arms tightly around her. She shamefully basked in the feeling of being held so securely, a sense of safety she rarely felt washing over her. She took the chance to study the General unobserved, her fingers traced over his neck and traced his jawline, their conversation the night before coming back to her in pieces. The one question that had always plagued her began to torment her again, how different were men from elves? She could name a dozen ways but did they really matter? Did height, skin color, eye color in the end matter? Did number of sunsets and rises seen truly make any difference? Was it not the way one chooses to live that mattered? What a person does with their years was surely more important than how many years was it not? That was the whole reason the Thalmor existed at all, to show men how to live better, and how to be better people. 

At one point not so long ago she had truly believed that all men surely needed lessons on how to better themselves. The nords certainly did, even now, but as she traced the General’s cheek bones with her left hand she traced her own with her right, she began to doubt the same could be said of the Imperials. She knew many Altmer far more sadistic and cruel than the General could ever be, he would not even think of it as a possibility, surely that made the General a better person; she would much prefer her crueler colleagues to be more like him. What must that say of her people? She frowned, they had bad eggs in their ranks but so did the Imperials. She remembered Angie’s story, she always wondered if the General knew why his men had been killed and what he would think about it. She couldn’t imagine he would deny it and blame the young girl, but would he own it? He was so loyal to the Empire, to the point of blind faith but hadn’t he accused her of being the same way with the Thalmor? She pulled her hand back as his eyes fluttered open and he looked down at her, “’Morning.” He mumbled sleepily as he finally let go of her. 

“Amazing, men have now learned to tell the time of day by their sleep patterns, I must note this in my—” She began in an exhilarated tone only to stop when the General sat up collapsing the snow-roof on top of her. “HEY!” She yelped as she stood up and brushed it off, trying to get the few balls of snow that had drifted down her coat out. 

The sun hadn’t risen yet and the world was still and silent, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. She grabbed her pack and searched through it for breakfast as her stomach growled, she took out some bread and sausages. There wasn’t enough to split it into two meals, she’d need to find more, perhaps she could find some berries and eggs. There was a forest just a few yards away on the side of the mountain, she wandered through it carefully pulling her coat tighter around her in the cold morning air. She didn’t have to go far before finding a bush of snowberries, she collected them in a cloth and tied the corners of the cloth together to form a pouch before looking upwards in the trees. It took her a few minutes to find a nest but with a quick telekinesis spell the nest flew off the branch towards her. She yelped as the eggs tumbled out of the nest and splattered all over her hair, the cold, thick slimy insides trickling down her hair and face. She scowled at her carelessness, she should have known that would happen, she forged on until she found another nest and this time slowly tilted it towards her until she could see the eggs. She cast the telekinesis on the eggs themselves and floated them down to her. She quickly followed her footprints back to camp and found Tullius sitting before a large fire. 

“I found our breakfast.” She said holding the eggs up. 

He looked up at her and froze, his lips began to twitch and a few seconds later his attempt at suppressing a laugh failed, she glared at him but he just said, “Yes and it looks to me like the eggs fought back.” 

“Oh shut up.” She muttered as she pulled a small skillet out of her bag. She cracked the eggs in the skillet and placed it over the fire, dumping the sausages in as well. While they cooked she melted some snow and heated the water until it was hot enough to wash the egg off her face and hair. When she was done she sat in front of the fire once more, she shivered as her wet hair clung to her. She could already feel it hardening in the cold air, but the scent of cooking sausages made her mouth water. Tullius walked over to his bag and grabbed a small blanket carefully draping it over her head and shoulders, she smiled up at him, “Why thank you, sir.”

“You’re insufferable as it is now, I highly doubt you’d be any more tolerable if you got sick.” He grumbled as he sat back down. 

She snorted, “Men are worse. Any time my father got sick he acted like such a baby and couldn’t do anything for days but whine. My mother on the other hand would still clean and work.” She shook her head, amused. She pulled the food off the fire and divvied up the berries, eggs, sausages and bread and passed his plate over to him. 

They ate in silence, both far too hungry to bother talking, a sense of satisfaction and contentment washed over her even as cold as it was the hot food and warm fire before her kept her from totally freezing. She used snow to rinse off the dishes and skillet and shoved them back in her pack before standing up, “I can’t wait until we get to Whiterun I already feel like I need a bath.” 

“If we can find the path that is. The sun is rising, which should help us find the path.” They both looked to the horizon where the sun was rising slowly, an orange globe in the middle of an orange-pink sky that faded into a soft purple-blue color. The dark blue of night slowly fading away as the sky grew brighter. It was a breath taking sight and they stood in silence taking it in. “There is something redeeming about this land even if it’s inhabitants are irritating.” He said gruffly.

In moments like these, where nature took over and reminded her how small and insignificant they truly were she knew without a doubt that all races were just guests upon the face of Tamriel. That the land, the world, was very much alive, and secure in its power, did not pay much attention to the rather insignificant parasites feeding off of it. It was in the moments that she often wondered how her people could possibly think they were anything like this? This was power, true power, this was the work of a god and the land the bodies of them. Their beauty and power paled in comparison to those of the gods, even the ehlnofey. It wasn’t the first time she was caught off guard by the world and it wouldn’t be the last, but just like every other time, a seed of doubt sprouted in her chest. The consequences of them chasing after a lie, disregarding the sacrifices they had to make in order to achieve this lie….it was all too much to consider, it had to be the truth. Perhaps they had adapted to Tamriel and that is why they were so insignificant now. Maybe. 

She turned away after a few long minutes and grabbed her pack, “Lets look for the path so we can get off this blasted mountain.” They began walking across the mountain until finally an hour later they found the path miles away from where they had been. She scowled, “That bastard innkeeper gave me the wrong directions intentionally. I have half a mind to go back and shove an ice pike through his thick skull.” She growled angrily. 

“Perhaps on the way back we can swing around.” Tullius said darkly much to her surprise.

She smirked, “See I’m rubbing off on you.” She looked up the mountain and could see the faint outline of an archway, undoubtedly the entrance to the pass. She trudged up the mountainside, her muscles stiff and sore but eager to finally get to the other side and then hopefully off the mountain. They passed a skeleton laid to rest on a burial altar, her eyes narrowed at the Amulet of Talos hanging from the skeleton. She ripped it off without care, threw it to the now hard icy ground and stomped on it before melting it. The General watched in silence, smart enough to know not to interfere for once. It took them a few hours but finally the snow faded to grass. She shed her coat, throwing it over her shoulder and nibbled at some cheese and fruit. “Thank the divines we’re off that mountain.” 

“Look, you can see Whiterun in the distance.” The General pointed out, she raised her hand shielding her eyes against the sight. 

“I haven’t been to Whiterun in ages.” She sighed as they moved forward, climbing over rocks and the unleveled terrain. She strode towards Whiterun with purpose, nothing would stop her from getting in a bath that night. 

“Wait!” The General called out from behind her, she frowned and turned around, he was looking at something on the ground, she walked closer and saw blood and a piece of a torn Stormcloak uniform. They looked at each other puzzled, what were Stormcloaks doing near Whiterun? The trail of blood led up a large hill to their left, the General immediately went forward but her anxiety froze her, when he noticed she wasn’t with him he stopped and looked behind him. “Gadheriel?”

She looked at him worriedly, “What if—what if it’s a trap and there are Stormcloaks waiting to ambush us?” She knew it sounded ridiculous, they didn’t even know if the Stormcloaks had survived and if they had why would they stay behind for the random chance of someone coming by that they wanted dead? She couldn’t explain why she was so nervous especially since they had spent the night in Stormcloak-sympathizing Dawnstar with no issues. She hated how she was reacting, grateful that she was with the General and not one of her colleagues who would report her weakness. She would definitely be a liability if she didn’t get over this irrational fear and paranoia.

He walked over to her until he stood in front of her, she looked away from him ashamed that this human had more courage than she did, “I’ve seen you take down sabre cats with a mere flick of your wrist, there is nothing to fear from some mere farmers.” 

“Sabre cats didn’t ambush and torture me.” She said quietly, still looking away. 

She felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, “They can’t ambush you if you’re expecting it and this time you’re not alone, I am with you. I will not let anything happen to you.” 

She felt her heart squeeze at his words, a rush of warmth and gratitude flooding into her mixing with pool of shame that seemed to be growing within her. She was supposed to be better than this. She breathed in and nodded, there was only one way she would get past this, she had to face it head on. “Alright, lets go then.” She followed behind very closely, her eyes wide and darting around taking in every detail of their surroundings. It was quiet and still, the further they went up the hill the more bloody debris littered the ground. When they finally reached the top of the hill they froze in horror, in front of them was a gruesome scene. Three large wooden stakes rose out of the ground, three Imperial soldiers were impaled on them through their chests, their bodies bruised and broken. Flies buzzed around them, their abdomens were ripped open completely, their intestines hanging out with maggots crawling over their wounds; birds had eaten their eyes and had been ripping at the flesh on their faces. The smell was terrible, blood was everywhere, her stomach rebelled and she vomited where she stood. She wiped her mouth, the smell still making her queasy, she looked over at the General who remained frozen in place just staring at his men. 

His hands were clenched into fists she could see them shaking a little, she moved closer to him and cautiously laid a hand on his shoulder, “Varian?” She said softly. 

He shifted and turned to her, his eyes were filled with incensed rage, “How dare they?” He hissed, his face turning red, “Those fucking bastards! Nothing but wild animals the lot of them.” He yelled, yanking his shoulder out of her grip and walking away from her. He didn’t speak for a few minutes as he just stared up at his soldiers, “I’ll make sure they pay for this. The Stormcloaks will hang every last one of them!” 

Her heart was beating hard, she could feel his rage as if it was a wild force reaching out of him ready to strike out and kill. She was not frightened of him as angry as he was, she felt a sorrow settle in her bones, she knew what it was like to lose soldiers. She had been a Commander at one point, she felt responsible for every single one of her soldiers and had cared for them deeply. They entrusted their lives to her, it was her duty to make sure they not only succeeded in their missions but that they all came out alive. Every time one of her soldiers died it broke her heart, a crushing guilt weighed on her heart heavily. It had been her job to keep them alive, where had she been when they died? How had her plan failed leading them to their demise? What could she have done differently? She knew what the man before her was feeling, and she also knew there was nothing she could say to make it better, to relieve his pain. He walked up to the one in the center, a Imperial woman with brown hair and green eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist trying to lift her off the stake.

She stepped forward grabbing him by the arm, “No, there is no point, they’re dead and we have no place to take them.” She frowned.

He turned to her with a scowl on his face, “I will not leave them here to be eaten by animals and mocked by any nord who walks by! They may not be elves but they didn’t deserve this!”

She dropped his arm, surprised that he could possibly think she cared that they weren’t elves, “That isn’t—their race doesn’t matter. It’s a matter of practicality. Come on we can send a courier to Solitude with their location.” 

“No, I’m not leaving them like this. What if I had just left you with those Stormcloaks? How would you like that? You know lately I’ve been thinking I should have, at least then you’d be locked up in Ulfric’s dungeon and not running around with a daedric artifact to torment my people with!” He snapped.

It felt like he had thrust a dagger deep into her chest, her jaw tightened and clenched, but she drew a deep breath in and sighed. She didn’t dare reply, she didn’t trust her voice to remain steady, instead she helped him lift their bodies off the stakes and gently laid them on the ground, gagging terribly throughout it all. She watched as he folded their arms across their chests and closed their eyes, when he finished praying over each one of them he merely turned away without a word and began walking back towards Whiterun. She followed behind him silently, casting worried glances at him. For once she didn’t know what to do, he had always been the more calm, rational one of the two of them, she had never seen him lose complete control like this before. 

When they entered the city they went directly to the inn, she paid for a room for both of them, she took the key from Saadia and entered their room, the General close behind her. She shed her clothes and ran some water into a tub behind a partition, after heating it she slipped in to the tub and relaxed wondering how she could best help the General. She was concerned, his silence was tense and dangerous, as if any little thing would cause him to explode. She mused at how the roles were reversed for once, usually he was trying to find a way to handle her and he always managed to figure it out, now it was her turn. She scrubbed herself clean listening to the sound of the General scratching away with a quill, undoubtedly writing a letter to Imperial headquarters in Solitude. She reluctantly stepped out of the bath and dressed in fresh clothes, throwing the dirty clothes in the tub and began scrubbing them out. “You should take a bath, I’ll do your laundry afterwards.” She said as she hung her clothes out of the window. She filled the tub once more and heated the water again.

When he didn’t respond she walked over to him and gently tapped him on the shoulder, he jerked his head around irritation in his eyes, “I am perfectly capable of drawing my own bath. Don’t you see I’m busy?” 

“I’ll make sure the courier gets your letter, please just take a damn bath, you stink.” It was true the horrible smell of death had clung to them, just as the blood of his comrades had seeped into their clothes. 

He growled in annoyance, “I am sorry that my men’s deaths are such an inconvenience to you.” He shoved the chair back and stood up, he glared at her.

“I’m sorry too, especially since your disposition is so sour over mere casualties of war. If they hadn’t died today they’d have died tomorrow.” She said flippantly, her gaze hard, “It is hardly worth noting.” 

“They were people, they had families! They didn’t deserve to die like that. Your people may be expendable but my men are not! It would have been better if it had been your people, after all it’s you people that started this fucking war, and now my men are dead and you just want to throw them away like they are garbage.” He kicked the desk, “You elves use men, since in your eyes we are expendable, so if we can die in your stead we will. And still it isn’t enough for you lot!” He slammed his fist down on the desk, the wood creaking in protest. 

“Well perhaps you all should have been trained better. For the Empire being all that, you all fall quite easily, especially to mere farmers. It’s not our fault your men are so incompetent.” She said coldly, she knew she was playing a dangerous game but she also knew he needed to get that anger out of him, if she had to direct it towards herself than she would, this she could do for him.

“They were damn fine soldiers! The proof is that we forced the Thalmor to concede to a treaty when they had wanted complete domination! But that wasn’t enough, no you lot gimped us so badly that there is no possible way we can win this war. It’ll drag out just like you want. Don’t you deny it—I saw the papers! You all are draining the Empire and Skyrim of resources, and diverting their attention towards one another rather than you all. Just waiting in the wings until both are so weak they’ll topple! Well let me tell you, I don’t intend to stand idly by and let you have your way. The Thalmor will never win this war, I’ll make sure of it personally if I have to kill every last elf on Tamriel!” He screamed, spittle flying as his face turned red, he looked quite mad, but the last few days hadn’t been easy before discovering the bodies either. 

“You can certainly try, but I guarantee what the Stormcloaks did to your men out there will look merciful to you by the time we’re done with Tamriel.” She said smiling softly. “All Imperials will be begging for their fate, I’m sure you’ll get a ring side seat to it as well, so you can watch as your people are tortured to death. You’ll have all the time in the world to wonder how you failed them like you failed those soldiers out there.”

He paled and flew at her, his hands wrapped around her neck and he slammed her body against the wall, her head bouncing painfully off of it. She winced as little pricks of light swam into her vision. She placed her hands on his wrists and looked him in the eye, “Tell me I’m wrong Varian, tell me that isn’t what’s truly bothering you. You took off with a Thalmor leaving your men behind and look what has come of it. You blame me for it but you blame yourself more. You chose a Thalmor over your own men, how does it feel?”

His hands around her neck tightened cutting off her air supply. She struggled against him, kicking and arching up. Her fingers sent jolts of electricity up his arms but he ignored them, too angry to care. She panicked for a second, had she pushed too far? She couldn’t paralyze him, nor did anything seem to harm him enough to snap him out of his rage. Her chest and throat was on fire, she slapped her hands against his chest, she kicked her legs out but nothing seemed to bother him. She could feel herself growing weaker, his angry eyes boring into her frightened ones. She placed her hand gently on his cheek and stroked it tenderly, hoping to tell him that she was not his enemy. Her vision was going dark, and her struggles were nonexistent, her hand too weak to hold up she let it fall down his neck and chest, to dangle at her side. Looking into his eyes she saw a flicker of uncertainty before she lost consciousness.

* * *

  
When she fell limp against the wall he saw his opportunity, he could easily finish her off and take the skull. There would be one less Thalmor in the world and the elves would never get the chance to use the skull to torture his people. The Empire would reward him handsomely for bringing the skull to them, the least of which rewards would be the return of his position in Skyrim and all he had to do was keep his hand around her neck. Her words echoed in his ears, cruel and cold. It had shocked him to hear how she felt about his people, did she not see that he was one of them? Did she truly not care? Why would she antagonize him in such a way when there was no benefit to her? It didn’t make sense, but did it have to when the skull was there to take? The skull that could save his people and rid them of the Thalmor forever? 

“Yes my child, yes…take the skull, it is powerful. It can erode the enemies defenses and leave them vulnerable. Your people would be free and no one would dare threaten them again. Surely the life of one is not more important than the lives of hundreds of thousands? Especially when the one wishes to destroy your people. Kill her and take the skull, let it serve you as you serve your people….” 

The strange echoing whisper cut through his anger like a sharp blade, the rage slowly faded and in its place horror arose. He snatched his hand away from her throat and caught her as she fell forward. He gathered the elf in his arms and laid her gently on the bed, divines, what had he done? His trembling hands searched for a pulse, he hadn’t meant to harm her. He didn’t know what had come over him, her words were cruel and taunting but he had lost control like he had never before. He sighed with relief as he found a strong pulse, his body sagged forward and he ran a hand over his face. He didn’t know what had come over him, he had been bone tired and emotionally wore out the last few days. The breaking point had been finding his men in such horrid positions, after that a dark anger had taken over him, it was like a shadow had fallen over him and taken root inside his heart. Even more alarming was the voice he had heard speaking to him as if someone was whispering directly into his ear, he shivered remembering how cold and sinister the voice had sounded. The only plausible explanation he could think of was that somehow the skull had influenced him. Had Gadheriel been controlling him with it, perhaps practicing with it to show the Thalmor how to use it? He frowned but shook his head, it made no sense why would she control him to strangle herself? And why had she seemingly been provoking him into a fight? Perhaps she was testing out how complete the control over a person was? 

He looked down at her but dismissed the idea after a few moments, no he was sure the elf wouldn’t do that to him, would she? He ran a hand over his face, the guilt gnawing at him. He could still see her terrified eyes, her hand against his cheek gently, his arms still ached with the lightning she had sent through him. She could have seriously harmed him to get him off of her, he did not doubt that but instead she had suffered through unwilling to do so, that didn’t seem like someone willing to torment him. He looked down at her once again, his stomach sinking to the floor as the vision of him strangling her refused to escape him. He turned away, walking towards the door desperately needing to escape the room. He was thankful they were already at an inn because he needed an ale like never before. He pulled out a barstool and ordered a glass of cyrodil brandy, a small comfort that reminded him of home. He stared into the glass of amber as he slowly sipped it and let the warmth flow through him. He sighed, relaxing inch by inch the horrors of the last few days draining out of him, pushing any thought out of his head afraid it would interfere with the temporary peace he found in the liquor. 

“Hey there! You look down in the dumps, what’s eating at ya buddy?” An obnoxious, slightly slurred but friendly voice said, he turned his head and saw a middle-aged Breton man slid onto the barstool next to him.

“This damned war, what else?” He grumbled, “What’s it to you?”

“Ah, I was waiting for someone who looked like they could use a few drinks you see and you fit the bill perfectly! What do you say, have a little drinking contest with me?”

He sighed, what would it hurt to have a few drinks with this stranger, when he meant to drink until he forgot anyway? “What you got to drink then?”

“Excellent! The name is Sam by the way.” Sam said looking almost giddy in anticipation, “Oh I got the good stuff, really strong. No one has lasted three rounds, I can only do two myself, but as I hear it you soldiers always drink. I’ll give you my very own staff if you can down three drinks.” 

He looked into the mug Sam handed him, murky amber liquid sparkled within it, the stench of alcohol was overwhelming, no doubt this would do the trick. Just one night of escape, one night where the stress and pressures of the world didn’t exist was all he wanted. He chugged the liquor as quickly as he could, he barely tasted it but felt the burn in his throat that brought tears to his eyes and a warmth in his chest. His head felt fuzzy as he set the mug down, “Your turn. This is some good stuff.”

Sam seemed to drink it without much consequence, more like his mug was filled with water, the General looked at him suspiciously but let Sam refill his mug. He forced down another mug, his head now swimming and the room spinning, “Wha’s in dis brew? Is ver’ goods.” He slurred, he sighed in relief as his muscles completely relaxed and he slumped forward. His body felt heavy, and his mind fuzzy. He watched as Sam took another mug with ease and he glared at him, “Yous wont win s’thiz.” The General slurred determined, he pulled his refilled mug over a third time and glared into it.

“My friend, if you can keep this one down you win the staff! It’s been ages since I’ve had this much fun!” Sam smiled widely, boisterously swinging his arms out. 

Sam’s voice was grating on him but he couldn’t deny his drinks were strong enough to ease any number of ills, he chugged another mug but this time it hit him far too hard, he felt like he was being burned alive, it felt like he was on a ship and he couldn’t stop laughing, Sam grabbed him in a one armed hug and yelled out, “You did it! Now in order to get my staff we need some supplies….” 

  
********************

“Oh don’t be such a stickler , he has a rugged handsome look about him. Who can resist a man in uniform?” he heard a woman’s voice above him say, someones hand was on his cheek, stroking it gently. He leaned into the tender touch knowing the only person who had touched him so intimately in years was Gadheriel. His body felt like lead, his stomach roiled, his head throbbed and his mind felt fuzzy. The tenderness he found in the touch anchored him to a reality other than the pain that thrummed through his body, and as welcome as it was he couldn’t understand why the stubborn and proud elf would be so kind to him when he had nearly killed her. The memory of that cold, silky voice whispering in his ear sent shivers down his spine, he could still feel the seed of darkness living within him, just biding its time. 

He heard the sound of a large door open as he struggled to open his eyes, the vibrations it caused upon clanging shut made him groan in agony. The hand left his cheek much to his annoyance but soon a rag was mopping his face in cool water that felt heavenly against his burning hot skin. What had he done to deserve this? A flush of shame surged through him once again, she had been so cruel but he suspected she was trying to provoke him into a fight, and that she hadn’t meant her words truly, but he could remember the darkness and anger inside; he knew he had meant to harm her. The cold cloth left his face and his head was lifted onto a soft warm lap. He had to get up, get to Gadheriel, wherever he may be, he needed to check on her and tell her how sorry he was but he did not want to leave this dream. He felt hands running over his chest, and shivered, what was she doing? He could feel his armor being peeled away from his abdomen and the leather beneath lifted up, so his abdomen was bare. 

He tried to move but his limbs felt weighed down, his eyes stubbornly remaining closed no matter how much he struggled to open them. He tensed as he felt something cool touch his nipples. He tried to draw in enough breath and strength to protest but as he did so the sound of the door swinging open resonated in the room once more. A voice he recognized instantly shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get your filthy hands off of him you whore!” A hot breeze flew over him removing the cold touch and the weight upon his legs, then the lap his head laid in was yanked away from him. He winced, feeling like his brain was sloshing around and banging against his skull, but his head never hit the floor. Remarkably he felt two hands cupping the back of his head and lowering it gently to the floor. 

“You better wake up right now old man. I didn’t travel all this way just to find you in this temple of disrepute.” Gadheriel snapped angrily, shoving his arm roughly.

Yes, that was Gadheriel, but then who had been touching him before? What had they been doing to him? What temple of disrepute? The last thing he could remember he was drinking with Sam at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. He tried to force his eyes open, and to move his limbs but seconds later ice cold water was thrown over him and he gasped, the shock to his system waking him completely he sat up fast, clutching his head as it throbbed in protest but his eyes were wide open. He looked around in shock, he was no longer in the Inn, instead he found himself in a room made of stone, surrounded by tall golden statues of Dibella and the doors he had heard opening were the large dwemer doors of Markarth. How the hell had he gotten to Markarth? And why was he in the Temple of Dibella? He looked down at his chest to find colored paint of some sort on his chest, what had they been doing to him? He looked up again to find the priests scattered around the floor either unconscious or dead he couldn’t tell. 

He turned his head to look at her, he wasn’t surprised by the anger in them but the apprehension in them caught him off guard. He raised his arm to brush aside her hair wanting to see her neck but she jerked back. Her eyes narrowed and she held out her hands in warning, but he shook his head and croaked raspily, “I won’t harm you.”

“I trusted you before when you said that and yet you tried to kill me.” She replied in a tight, clipped voice, she moved her hair so he could look upon the damage he had done to her. His hand print was a vivid and ugly black and blue imprint on her throat.

Suddenly he felt nauseated, whether that was from the knowledge of what he had done to her or the drinking he did not know. He turned away and vomited all over the floor of the Temple. Once he started he couldn’t stop, his stomach spasmed violently and painfully, determined to get everything out of him. Pain erupted behind his eyes with each violent heave and clenching of his stomach. At some point he had lifted himself onto his knees, he found himself pitifully wanting that gentle touch back, but he was left alone on the floor to deal with his misery. When the spasms subsided a cup of cold water was shoved into his hands and he rinsed his mouth out with the first cup but then drank the next three glasses of water Gadheriel handed him greedily. “What happened?” He croaked after his thirst was sated.

She snorted, “What’s the last thing you can remember?” 

He frowned and tried his best to dreg up the memory of the night before, “I remember hurting you,” He looked up at her, his eyes locking in on her neck again, “Gods, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I was just so angry and then it was like something else took hold of me, and I heard this voice. It was a womans’ voice but different. It whispered to me, it was cold and echoing sort of. Told me to kill you and take the skull to serve my people with. It was all I could do to stop….”

A look of disbelief came over her face but he could see the hope burning in her eyes, than a sudden realization softened her countenance. She lowered her gaze back to him, she reached out her hand and when it touched his, he could hear the voice again but it was telling him that Erandur would betray him. He jerked his head up, “That’s the voice, gods, was that Vaermina, the Daedric prince herself?” 

“Yes, she must have been keeping her eye on us ever since the temple. I should have known she’d go after you.” She sighed and rubbed her brow. 

His brow furrowed and he replied almost indignantly, “Why because I am a man and therefore weaker?”

She smiled a little, “No, daedra hardly care about that, but the Thalmor gift each of its agents with a necklace of protection against Oblivion. It would have been difficult—not impossible—but still more difficult to get to me than to you. So she wore you down, the only one in the vicinity of the skull that was an easy mark.” She ran her hand through her hair looking annoyed, her foot tapping almost impatiently.

He frowned, scowling in confusion, but Vaermina had gotten to the elf. He had just heard it himself, she had spoken to Gadheriel, urged her to kill Erandur and she had, “But you killed Erandur on her command.” He reminded her. 

The smile she gave him was one of cold irony, twisted and broken, “No. She talked to me, tried to convince me to kill Erandur, use the skull for her glory. You know how Daedric Princes are, but I was already thinking of it before she even spoke to me. I killed him because I wanted to, I wanted the skull for my purposes, not Vaermina’s. I simply rejected her and did as I pleased.” She looked at him thoughtfully for a second than a slow but small smile lit her face, “But you outright fought off a Daedric Princes’ control without any magic protecting you. And just for little ole me.”

He scoffed, “Don’t go getting any ideas about that, elf. I assure you no General of the Imperial Legion in the service of the Empire and Emperor Titus Mede the second is going to bow down before any daedra.” When he heard her laughter he relaxed, relieved that she was okay and so were they. He looked more closely at her and wondered when he began to care about her, about their friendship but realized it hardly mattered, it was too late to go back now, not when her smile was so refreshingly and painfully beautiful. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Wait, if I’m in Markarth how did you get here so quickly and how did I?”

“You’ve been missing for two days. If it wasn’t for my knowledge of the arcane I’d have never been able to locate you myself. For a while there I couldn’t, you weren’t on Tamriel at all but then you appeared in multiple different places, you appeared quickly and disappeared just as quick only to reappear across Skyrim in seconds.” Her arms folded across her chest, “Frankly I thought I had done the ritual wrong, but I checked everything and I had done it as I should have.” 

He looked around grimly, “What did Dibella herself throw me around—wait, what happened to Sam?”

Her brows raised, “Sam?”

“There was another man—a breton—named Sam at the bar with me. We had a drinking contest, it was the last thing I remembered.” He said, remembering the boisterous breton man with bloodshot eyes.

“When I woke up it was still night but you were long gone, the inn was nearly empty, there was no breton man left in there.” She paced back and forth, “I don’t know who this Sam character is, whether he’s a follower or a daedra himself—”

“A daedra?” He replied in shock.

“Yes, like I said you weren’t on Tamriel anymore, and then when you did reappear you went from one corner of Skyrim to the next in seconds. You had to be teleporting. The only logical explanation for any of that is a Daedra, Dibella certainly doesn’t care enough to do that. Sam obviously must be a cultist or a daedra in disguise.” 

“What purpose does a Daedra have in getting me drunk and carting me around Skyrim?” He questioned, none of this made sense, wasn’t it just as likely that Sam was a mage, after all hadn’t he promised him a staff? Could Sam not be proficient in portals and happened to drag him along on some adventure? He put the idea forth, Gadheriel paused in her pacing to think this over. Her eyes lifted to the ceiling as her hands tugged at her hair. He didn’t know why but it was little things like this about her that he liked most. No, he did know why, he knew that this was a side of the elf no one else got to see. Everyone else got the put-together, never-vulnerable, demanding, Thalmor Commander, but she dropped her guard in his presence and only his. Some of his men didn’t even trust him this much, let alone men he had tried to kill. He still felt the gnawing guilt, even if she had forgiven him easily for being the pawn of a daedra. The vision of his hands around her throat and her looking at him in such terror would not fade easily from his minds eye.

“Hm that’d be possible yes, you said he promised you a staff? What sort of staff, did you see it?” She asked him finally lowering her penetrating gaze from the ceiling on to him. 

He shook his head, “No, just that if I won I could have it, I didn’t really much ask. I just wanted to get drunk.” It seemed foolish now, how could he have been so stupid? He was the Imperial General on foreign soil in the midst of a war in an under cover operation, and he had gotten drunk. Not even infantry men were that irresponsible. 

She shook her head, “And you can’t remember anything else?” She demanded, tapping her foot impatiently.

He shook his head, wincing as he did so and shrugged, “No, like I said I was in the Bannered Mare than suddenly I woke up here. You said I kept appearing in different locations, do you remember any of them?” 

“Only two, the others were in the wilds, but you were in Rorikstead and for a few brief minutes back in Whiterun.” She frowned, “Rorikstead is closer perhaps we can start there, but first,” She looked down at him her nose scrunching up a little, “You need a bath and a change of clothes.” 

He scoffed, “I’ve probably been dragged around Oblivion and Skyrim for two days and you’re offended by my smell? Of course I smell!” He grabbed hold of the wall and lifted himself up. He swayed a bit, Gadheriel came forward, “Just a little light headed.”

“Oh yeah that’s just what we need you falling off the stairs—how did you manage those stairs drunk?” She looked at him puzzled. 

He shrugged, “Who knows. Perhaps Sam or whoever it was portaled me in here directly.” He tried to take a step forward but the world still felt like it was shifting beneath him and he stumbled but before he could hit the floor Gadheriel grabbed him and threw his arm around her shoulder and wrapped her own around his waist. He nearly laughed at the irony of the situation; too many times he had to drag his own men, drunk and helpless, from inns and now a Thalmor was doing the same to him. They made their way carefully down the stairs, as embarrassing as it was to have this elf who barely weighed anything holding him up he was grateful that she was because looking down them made him dizzy and disoriented. 

He was grateful when they finally reached the Inn, he looked around uneasily, sizing up the people around them as Gadheriel paid for a room. He grunted as she dragged him off and waited impatiently for the bath to heat up. “There, get in.” She demanded, waving to the steaming tub. He pushed himself off the stone bench and fumbled with his armor for a few minutes, his fingers unable to do what he wanted them to he growled and yanked at his armor frustrated. Gadheriel came forward and began to undress him, he felt his cheeks burn. The only times a woman had undressed him before was in the bedroom or when injured, he looked at the floor humiliated but grateful that she never said anything to him. He stepped into the tub carefully and slid down, his muscles slowly loosening in the hot water. He heard the door close as Gadheriel left and he looked at it in confusion.

He had thought it a million times but he still couldn’t understand the elf. She fought him tooth and nail over everything but when he strangles her than disappears she drops everything to find him. Perhaps she had been hunting him down to kick his ass like he deserved, but she hadn’t harmed him not even before she realized he had been under the influence of a daedra. He slowly scrubbed himself his mind turning from Gadheriel to his dead soldiers, he had shamed them in the way he had been acting, especially when the people who had done that to them was still out there, kissing their wives and dining with their friends. The damn bastards got to go home but he would have to visit Gerelda and tell her the man she obviously adored more than life was never coming back. He’d have to face the son of Azmyreal and tell him that his father died and left him and his siblings to fend for themselves. And Arviella’s parents would be devastated, she was their only child and would ever be their only child, she had confided in him one day that giving birth to her had been such a struggle for her mother that it left her infertile afterward. His chest ached as he slid further into the tub until he was completely submerged. He stayed under trying to drown everything else out until he could no longer breathe. 

He had learned to compartmentalize many years ago but the loss of men was never easy for him or any other officer he knew. He had trained those soldiers, had lived with them for years, they trusted each other and they followed his orders without question even when it meant risking their lives, and in their business it often did. He sent them into harms way time and time again and they went willingly and trustingly but this time they didn’t come back. He had sent them to their deaths. Divines, he had known Azmyreal for twenty long years and the others for over ten. They had worked together for so long, never leaving each others backs. When promotions came they had asked to stay with him, if they couldn’t they rejected them. When they were given leave to see their family they asked him before they went. When there was no war they had still been with each other, they’d train during the day then he’d take them out to eat. He didn’t usually cross lines with his soldiers that way, there were far too many, but the soldiers in his elite squad, the very one that helped him save Gadheriel, were like family to him. They had to have been making their way back to Solitude, he had sent them an order to remain in Ivarstead and search for any other encampments, then when it was clear to make their way back to Solitude. He should have just ordered them to go with him, they’d be alive if he had and so would Darius. 

What had been done to them was horrific and sadistic, he would find the men who had done it and make them pay, perhaps in the same way they had made his soldiers pay. He scowled into the water, feeling the burning hot anger washing over him again and the dark tendrils he had tamed to save Gadheriel wrapped around his mind and heart clenching and writhing inside of him. He could feel his anger growing to dangerous levels and he clenched his fists just then there was a knock at the door and then it opened. Gadheriel walked in and placed a potion besides the golden tub, “Drink this, it’ll help with the hangover.” 

He glared at the vial, had she had this the entire time and let him suffer? To punish him, get back at him, for her own personal enjoyment? Did she get a kick out of playing games with him, one minute she was warm and the next cold. She turned away to leave when he grabbed her by the wrist and squeezed hard, “What’re you playing at elf? I’m tired of your games! I bet you had something to do with my men dying, it’s too much of a coincidence that we’d happen to stumble over them. Those very same soldiers helped save your pitiful life and look what they got for it! You aren’t worth the sacrifice of one of my men let alone three, but you enjoyed it didn’t you? You like seeing me like this, after all it’s three less imperials in your way. And as an added bonus you try to drive me mad, well let me tell you something, you aren’t fooling me!” He screamed as he squeezed her wrist as hard as he could and shook her. 

She cried out in pain and tried to rip her arm away from him but he merely pulled her closer, if only he could get her to the tub he could shove her head under, oh yes he’d kill her, make her pay for his men! He pulled her roughly and she jerked forward, throwing her good arm out to catch the lip of the tub, he sat up and grabbed her by the hair and jerked her downward. “No, Varian please, what’re you doing?!” She struggled as he tried to force her head under, the tips of her hair submerged already, “I’m sorry!” She said as she dipped her hand in the water and released a shockwave. His muscles tightened and spasmed violently, he screamed as the excruciating pain ripped its way through him. His vision narrowed and blurred and then darkness fell over him.

A few hours later he woke up groaning, his muscles ached terribly, he could feel them spasming and his fingers twitching. He cracked his eyes open and looked around, he breathed out in relief as he saw the familiar view of their rented room at the Markarth Inn. He frowned, trying to recall what had happened; he had been in the bath thinking of his dead soldiers, then the anger came just like it had before. At first it had been his own but then it grew and grew until it was no longer his at all. He could faintly remember a knocking at the door, and when he concentrated hard enough he recalled Gadheriel giving him a potion and another surge of anger. He could recall feeling hatred like he never had before, wanting to murder her. Suddenly her jerked up, gritting his teeth against his protesting muscles, the last time he had lost control like this he had strangled her what if he had hurt her again? What if he had been successful this time? Horrified and terrified all at once, he forced himself off the bed, his shaking legs barely supporting him as he made his way to the attached room. He threw open the door only to find it empty, a wave of relief swept through him. He had expected a dead body, he had feared opening the door to find Gadheriel slumped over the tub, her head under the water and not moving. He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer of thanks to Stendarr. The feelings this elf evoked in him were intense and mysterious to him, all he knew was that for the first time in many years someone had made him smile. That someone was a Thalmor but that didn’t matter to him, perhaps it should. Perhaps it should be a warning but the longer he was with her the more he wanted to stay by her side. It was the entire reason he had left Solitude. He knew he was headed for disaster, the elf barely listened to him stubborn as she was and she still held prejudice against mankind. She still wielded that blasted skull with aims to torment his people. It was the greatest conflict he had faced.

For many years he had been a hard-nosed, decisive, hard headed General, he never doubted himself and was never selfish but with Gadheriel it was different. He knew he should fight her for the skull, either outright or underhandedly, perhaps he would, he should realize how her refusal to not torment his people spoke volumes about her, but instead, selfishly, he risked the consequences and stayed by her side. He huffed, he wasn’t being a good General, but perhaps over time he could make the elf see differently. They still had many weeks, perhaps months, together, anything could happen. Perhaps he could convince her to let go of it in that time, or formulate a plan to destroy the skull but preserve the elf’s life. He stumbled back to the bed, his muscles aching even more but at least the hang over was gone. Where was she? Had she left him after his most recent attempt on her life? He certainly deserved it, it would be the smart thing for her to do, one day he wouldn’t be able to stop himself nor would she and she’d be dead by his hand. He would kill the one being that could make him smile, even if he was stressed, and worn down by the blasted war. He looked up as the door opened and she walked in, he didn’t say anything at first, trying to gauge her mood. She threw her coat off and he winced at the bruising on her arm, with the bruising on her neck she looked like the wife of one of his fellow Generals. There was a few he knew who beat their wives, he had managed to save one from his comrades brutality but most of them were too afraid to leave and all he could do was nod as they had walked by him in the city with fresh bruises on their faces. 

She didn’t speak at all, she merely placed a plate of food next to him, he gently grabbed her uninjured wrist and held it loosely, she jerked her head up to look at him, “I am sorry, again. I don’t know what’s happening. I was just thinking of my men, I was so angry but then the anger grew until it took over me. I have no control of myself!” He spat in frustration, he had always had control of himself, he prided himself on it in fact, much like the elf in front of him. 

She sat on the edge of the bed, surprising him, “I know it isn’t you but I can’t have you trying to murder me every time you get angry. I’ve been talking with a Vigilant in town, he’s offered to come look at you.” 

He looked at her stunned, “I was expecting some rage, perhaps some yelling and screaming.” 

She smiled a little, “Perhaps I did that while you were unconscious, but I can hardly blame you for being in the grips of a daedric prince. After all you did fight her off once for me, and this time you were injured, easier to prey on.”

He looked at her, while she was sitting close she was on the brink of the bed, poised to flee at any moment. He felt his heart drop, “You’re still wary of me.”

“Can you blame me? Even when I defend myself I worry that it will be too much for an old man to handle. I feared I had given you a heart attack when I pulled you out of the tub.” She said softly. 

A thought struck him just then, “You know I do believe you’ve seen me naked more often than I have seen you—”

Her eyes narrowed, her lips curled and he knew he was in trouble, “Well it may be common for men to go around flashing their junk and streaking around the Imperial City but us elves have what is called decorum, we don’t just go around acting like barbarians.”

He couldn’t help it, he tried to suppress a smile but failed, “Oh of course, my apologies, I just mistakenly assumed the cruel subjugation, domination, torture, cultural genocide, and forced assimilation were barbaric.”

She smirked, “Only if it is just in the name of sadistic pleasure, but as you know we have good intentions. It is hardly our fault we must resort to such brutish means to achieve it. You all wouldn’t listen to us any other way.” She paused, heaving a sigh, “You know we have this argument a lot. And yet still we stick with each other. There must be something wrong with the both of us.”

He snorted, “Yes.” Then he glanced at her, “Why did you come after me? You didn’t know I was under the influence of the daedra at the time. All you knew is I strangled you.”

She looked away from him, “When I woke up I was livid. I went searching Whiterun looking for you—ran into Heimskr by the way, aren’t you all supposed to be helping us prosecute Talos worshippers?—broke down a few doors that were locked, searched every building much to the annoyance of everyone in Whiterun in my fury but you were no where to be found and no one had any information on you either. I wasn’t going to let you get away from me though so I performed the ritual and then I began to realize something was wrong when I saw you bouncing all over. Then when I found you unconscious with those whores all over you I just let loose my anger on them.” She flushed, “They were painting ritualistic symbols on you.”

He wasn’t surprised he had thought perhaps the reason she tracked him down was not out of some benevolence but malevolence. He had expected no less from her, and he was glad she did. He looked at her bruises once more, “So a vigilant is coming?”

She nodded, “I’m going to have him check you out, daedra are not my expertise. He should know better what to do about it. Perhaps even have a way to evade the prince herself. Until then eat.” She motioned to the plate which held some cheese and fruit and a bowl of beef stew. 

He tried to grab the bowl but his hands shook far too much, she reached out and grabbed the plate as it tilted dangerously to the side nearly sending the soup flying. His cheeks heated up in embarrassment, but she said nothing just moved a bit closer and dipped the spoon in the soup and held it to his lips. He nearly groaned with embarrassment, he had never been so weak that he couldn’t feed himself. She fed him in silence with a patience and kindness that he had never seen in her before, she set aside the bowl of stew when it was done and fed him the small helping of cheese and fruit. A warmth blossomed in him every time his lips touched her fingers, and he could see the tenseness in her body slipping away each time. As much as it was hurting his pride he also enjoyed the intimacy of the moment, to be able to feel relaxed and secure enough with somebody to allow such intimacy was a reprieve in the middle of a war. A loud knock on the door jarred them out of the heat of the moment, making both of them jump violently. 

He watched as she opened the door just a crack and then opened it completely letting a Vigilant in the room. He was relieved to see the man was in fact an Imperial and not an elf or nord as he had feared. “Ah, the great General Tullius himself, it is an honor to meet you sir.” The man said bowing his head respectfully. 

“I’d agree but I would have rather met you under different circumstances.” He answered wryly, “What’s your name?”

“Tyranus, sir. I was investigating that abandoned house down the road when this elf grabbed me and told me my expertise was needed. I told her I was busy but she can be quite…convincing when she needs to be.” Tyranus eyes shifted to Gadheriel who was rolling her eyes.

He was quite sure that she had convinced him by threatening bodily harm but he couldn’t find it in him to scold her, after all he was benefiting from it. “So how does this work?”

“Well I’ll need to see this skull she mentioned, Vaermina can be a very nasty, insidious Daedric Prince. She likes to creep in, keeps a lower profile than the others. In my opinion makes her much more dangerous.” He said.

He watched as Gadheriel pulled out the skull and cautiously handed it over to him, surprised she did so without an argument when he had been trying to pry it out of her hands since the day she got it. Tyranus inspected it visually for a bit before his hands began to glow and his magic connected with it and in a short few seconds a thread of magic connected him with the skull. It was no surprise to either of them but Tyranus became excited, nearly hopping from foot to foot. “Oh I’ve dreamt of this day! You know most of the people with this condition we don’t find until after they’ve done something terrible than killed themselves but we caught yours early on. I’ve never had to actually perform a metaphysical reversal before, I’ve been dying to do one ever since I joined the Vigilants.”

His face fell flat and his eyes narrowed as he glared at the man, his original confidence in the man slipping away at his childish exuberance, “I am not your lab rat you mad wizard!” He snapped, honestly where did they come from?!

“That is rather…well we both know that it isn’t done often. Are you sure it is absolutely necessary? Can’t we just do away with the skull?” Gadheriel asked uncertainly, his eyes snapped to her in shock, his dread growing, he knew with certainty that if she was so willing to destroy the skull in order that he didn’t have to go through this metaphysical reversal it couldn’t be good.

“We will definitely have to destroy the skull but that is actually the very last step. You see the skull is how Vaermina is funneling the power, almost like a conduit. It funnels it into the world and it has latched onto General Tullius. Once latched it’ll remain that way no matter how far the skull is from the victim, and to destroy it would make the General much more vulnerable. Destroying the conduit does not destroy the power it simply makes it stronger, the power remains but without a funnel or conduit, it can just run free. With the conduit the power is controlled and stable, but without it….well it’s free to do as it wishes.”

“But then why would she even use a conduit if her magic would be stronger without it?” She asked, he was wondering the same thing but didn’t dare speak, he was not very knowledgeable with magic. He knew what it felt like now thanks to Gadheriel but he had no idea how to begin harnessing it and using it. 

“As I said, Vaermina likes to to keep a low profile, she can hardly spread her treachery if it was so obvious, because people like me would come in and put a stop to it before she could get started. Why waste it all on one man when she could have many?” Tyranus explained. 

He looked back and forth between the two, “So we can’t just destroy the damn skull.” 

Tyranus looked at him, “Not yet, after we unlatch Vaermina, so to speak, and rid you of her presence we most certainly will. In order to do that though we must do a Metaphysical reversal.”

Gadheriel was still frowning, her arms now crossed over her chest, “And this is absolutely necessary, there is no other way?”

Tyranus shook his head, “No, not that we are aware. It isn’t like taking a bath to wash off dirt. You know what it entails obviously.” 

She sighed, “Yes and that’s exactly why I don’t like it. How can we trust you?”

He looked back and forth at them before piping up, “Would anyone care to explain to the guinea pig what the hell a metaphysical reversal is?” He grumbled scowling at both of them. 

The two of them seemed to look at each other for a second before the Vigilant spoke up, “Well it means we’re going to have to soul trap you, then one of us—whoever didn’t soul trap you—will have to also go into the soul gem and rid Vaermina’s presence of it by soul trapping her essences with in it. It’s a delicate process, to soul trap within a soul gem can be risky, you have to be careful not to capture any of the person’s essence otherwise it could damage you irreparably.”

He glowered at the wall across from his bed, his prospects brought him no joy or relief. He knew he could trust Gadheriel, for the most part, to not harm him intentionally but what if she messed up? And what if Tyranus wanted the skull for himself? Surely Vaermina would sense what they were up to and would try to corrupt him. He didn’t quite like the idea of allowing either of them to roam around in his soul either. “Damn mages.” He growled, this was why he hated magic, even if it brought power to end suffering and heal wounds, even if this magic could save him, magic often meddled in things it had no right to, only creating more problems that needed more magic and the cycle was endless. 

It was the bed dipping again that brought him out of his gloomy, anxiety-driven reverie. He turned his head to look at the elf who sat beside him, “You must choose who stays here to have control over both your life and the life of the one helping you and who goes into the soul gem to trap Vaermina.” 

He frowned, “Are they the only choices I have? Who to entrust our lives to and who to entrust my soul to?” He sighed, who could he trust more? If Tyranus casted, that meant Gadheriel and him would both be soul trapped and he’d have complete power over their souls and bodies, but Gadheriel would be the one traipsing around catching Vaermina and of her ability in magic he had no doubts. She was a fearsome and intelligent mage, he knew she could do it, but he didn’t like the prospect of leaving both of their existences in the hands of a stranger. Would it not be better to let Gadheriel cast, and allow Tyranus into his soul? If he was damaged at least Gadheriel would live, but if Tyranus betrayed them they’d both die. It would be selfish and illogical to choose Gadheriel to invade his soul and yet he was repelled by the idea of this strange imperial man who was a little too excited to have a guinea pig invading his very essence. “I find the most logical choice would be to allow you to cast but the more unreasonable part of me is unwilling to allow this man to muck around in my soul.” He searched her eyes, “Tell me what you would prefer, because I can’t choose.”

She eyed Tyranus for a bit before turning around, “Well, you’ve always told me I am unreasonable, so let’s do this. Tyranus, cast the spell.” She backed away from the bed as Tyranus approached, he took a sharp breath in and prayed to Stendarr that this man would not betray them. He watched as a strange blueish-purple magic spread over him and then a cleaving pain as if he was being torn in two rose within him. He tried to scream but his mouth wouldn’t move, in fact his entire body seemed paralyzed. The pain grew and his vision filled with nothing but the purple-blue light, minutes later it faded away leaving him in the dark.

* * *

  
She watched with discomfort as the General suffered silently, his body writhing momentarily on the bed. She had never been able to stomach the sight of a person suffering, be it man or elf, which was why she had done her best to never get stationed at Northwatch Keep. She could kill with ease, but even then she often made it quick, torture should only be used if absolutely necessary in her book, though what absolutely necessary looked like for each person she found was much different. However, watching someone she had grown to somewhat care about suffer was even more difficult. The General and her were accustomed at this point to having the others’ back, it felt wrong to allow this Vigilant to cause him pain while she just watched. It had all been much easier before she had gotten used to him being around, before she realized that he wasn’t as foul as most other humans were. She was grateful when he finally stilled and his face relaxed from its tensed pained state. 

She laid next to him and nodded at Tyranus, “Alright, send me in but I want you to know that if something happens to either of us you will have the Imperial Legion and Aldmeri Dominion hunting you down eventually.” 

“I assure you my only aim is to rid this world of the Daedra.” Tyranus assured her firmly, she nodded. She also was leery of trusting this stranger but what other possible choice did they have? They couldn’t keep going on like this, and she certainly couldn’t go to her colleagues and ask one of them, even if she could she would question whether it would be wise to entrust them with the life of the Imperial General, not to mention they wouldn’t want the skull destroyed. She didn’t either but there was nothing else she could do. The General would be a danger to any and all he came across while the skull existed, and she found herself incapable of harming him let alone killing him as her superiors would undoubtedly want her to do. They would wonder at the wisdom of her choice if they ever found out, and how could she argue that this one man’s life was worth more than the power to attain the Thalmor’s goals? She still had reservations about it, the traitorous voice in her head telling her she was choosing a human over her own people but her heart would not budge on the matter for some illogical reason.

He raised his hand and within seconds she could feel her soul being ripped out of her body, it was agonizing but soon the pain faded and was replaced by a world of color and strange sounds. She looked around her, clouds of vivid blue and green covered what she thought of as the sky and before her a path of white-golden crystal formed a bridge. Orbs floated in the air around her ranging in color from yellow, green, blue, red and orange, the size of crystal balls she often saw in Khajiit caravans. She had never been in a soul trap but it was beautiful, she wondered if the colors and world reflected the soul or just the inside of the gem itself. Would her soul look different? She wondered if she would stumble across the General or if she was inside of him so to speak. She grinned nervously at the thought, blushing at her own immaturity. She looked around wondering how she would ever manage to distinguish Vaermina from Varian. She quite liked his name even if she didn’t use it often, it didn’t seem appropriate, almost as if it was too intimate for their relationship. They were colleagues at this point and nothing else, albeit forced colleagues of a sort. He was after all supposed to be spying on her. 

She began to walk down the bridge keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of Vaermina, while also trying to keep her balance. The crystal bridge was not solid, in fact every time she stepped on a crystal it would sink down just a few inches like a key on a piano but no sound ever came out. It was disconcerting and strained her muscles. Besides the bridge and the clouds there stood large pillars and towers, the towers were in the imperial design but the pillars were much more Ayleid in origin. She walked towards one and watched in fascination as large crystal stones formed in midair to make another path towards the pillar. She looked over the pillar at first, it seemed odd in that it looked solid but it shimmered oddly in the colored light. Curious she placed her hand on the pillar and gasped as blurred objects and colors raced through her mind as if she was traveling at a high speed and then suddenly with a stomach churning lurch stopped short in a meadow overgrown with grass, weeds and flowers. She looked around curiously before trying to move forward cautiously only to find that her feet remained glued to the ground. She felt tendrils of panic wash over her at the prospect of being stuck but remember Tyranus could draw her out if anything went horribly wrong. 

The sound of feet running caught her attention, when she looked up she could see a large Ayleid structure just a few feet away and on top of one of the fallen pillars were a little girl and a little boy both with wooden swords and shields. They were sword fighting playfully, the boy was obviously the better of the two. He seemed more aware of his footing and his opponent, he played it much more strategically than the girl did but the girl held her own, she made up for in pure willpower and determination what she lacked in cunning and observation. “Surrender now Varian Tullius and I will spare your people lives!” the girl with long brown hair and green eyes demanded as she held her wooden sword to the little boys throat. 

She tensed realizing that of course this would be one of the General’s memories, she was in his soul after all, what did she expect? She looked at the child that would grow up to be the General of the Imperial army and smiled softly. He was a cute little boy no older than nine, tall but very skinny. His eyes were serious, “I won’t let you enslave my people, Esmerelda, you evil witch! I will never surrender.” He cried out and before Esmerelda knew what had happened Varian had kicked her legs out from under her. She fell fast and hard her ribs hitting the toppled pillar they stood on and then hitting the ground with a thud. It was quiet at first but then the high-pitched cries of a child pierced the air. Varian quickly jumped down from the pillar and knelt by her side.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you, really!” He said as she slowly sat up, tears pouring down her face. He tried to help her stand up but she kept slumping to the side crying out, Gadheriel frowned, the girl probably had broken her ribs. That was when Varian, much taller than the little girl, slid his arms beneath her knees and shoulders and began carrying her, “I’ll take you home, it’ll be okay Essie.” 

She smiled, that was typical Varian for you, always rescuing someone valiantly, she rolled her eyes and then clenched them shut as the world blurred and she raced backwards once more until she was staring at the pillar once again. She breathed in and out deeply before remembering she had to find Vaermina not poke her nose around the General’s personal memories. She returned to the main path and looked around, she tried to dodge the floating colored orbs unsure what would happen if one hit her but when she went to dodge one she collided with another. It was a large orange ball of light. The minute it traveled through her she felt ice cold and the sensation of rushing forward happened again. Oh how she hoped the General wasn’t aware that she was invading his privacy. 

She was in a stone plaza surrounded by children, men and women, all whom were watching the road with faces filled with excitement, anxiety and anticipation. She searched the crowd for General Tullius and found him in the middle, he was watching the road with confidence, clearly happy and excited for whatever was coming. Minutes later she heard legions of hoof beats and wagons, carriages, cavalry and infantry men marched down the road towards them. When they halted the families rushed forward, men and women in their Imperial uniforms coming back from war and seeing their families for the first time were crying in joy, embracing and kissing one another. Kids, both young and older, were tossed in the air or spun around. She couldn’t help but smile sadly, her heart still ached. She would never get to see her dad again, and it was her own fault. As the crowd began to disperse slowly back to their own homes she was finally able to find Tullius. The young boy, who looked like he was only thirteen, was still there searching for his father. He moved in and out of the crowd, asking if anyone had seen his father. That is when she remembered Tullius telling her his father had died on the battlefield, and her heart sunk for the young boy still searching the crowds. His face slowly morphed from excited and confident to anxious and desperate. Soon he was all alone in the plaza, left there to still find his father. She wished she could comfort the young boy but she was forced to watch as he approached the wagons and other men who didn’t have families. He went down the line one by one until finally the commanding officer stopped him. She was too far away to hear what he said but somehow she knew. Young Varian looked utterly devastated, and when he passed her on his way back home she could see the tears he was trying to hold back glistening in his eyes. 

She shuddered as the air around her filled with grief, anger and resentment, it wrapped around her and suffocated her. His pain so strong and palpable it took all her effort to remain standing. The weight upon her made her wince and she gasped for air, “Please, no more…” she whispered and then suddenly she was thrust out of the memory. She breathed in deeply grateful to be able to breathe again and looked at the orange ball of light in shock. His feelings were very real in this space, they were physical things capable of doing great harm if she wasn’t careful. She had to focus on finding Vaermina, she shook her head and kept walking. The longer she was there the more she became attuned to his soul, she could hear voices coming from the balls of light now, little snippets of his life replaying in her ears. Moments of joy, and moments of grief, victories and defeats. She could not find Vaermina any place and frowned, if Vaermina wasn’t influencing him was he that angry with her? Did he truly wish her harm? Or had Vaermina become aware of what they were doing and was simply trying to mask her presence?

She was reluctant to let her magic reach out within his soul to find Vaermina’s presence, unsure of what would happen. All she could do was hope for some sort of sign, perhaps if Vaermina was masking herself there would be something different about a ball of light or a misshapen crystal, absolutely anything would be better than nothing. She investigated every ball of light, every crystal, every inch of the skyline and every tower and pillar she passed, the further she went in the more the atmosphere began to change, visibly it was still the same but the feeling in the air was more sinister and she felt like she was being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she jerked around just in time to see a ball of orange light slam into her sending her flying into the General’s memory. 

This time she was in a small home, it was a simple one room shack, the kitchen on the right side of the house, the living area in the middle and to the left the beds, it surprisingly didn’t look that much different than the homes of the nords, though it was obvious by the tattered rags they called clothing that this was an example of a very poor family, and not the norm like it was in Skyrim. A short and somewhat plump woman stood with her hands on her hips in front of a basin, and Tullius now a young man, still very thin and tall, stood a few feet in front of her. The woman’s face was red and Tullius’s body was tense, whatever was happening it wasn’t pleasant. 

“You what?! Are you stupid, boy? How could you possibly be so foolish!?” She shrieked.

“We need the money mother! You can’t deny that and at least it is more honorable than begging on the streets!” He argued defensively.

“Money, HA! What money Varian? Tell me, your father served his entire life in the Legion and look what we are left with!” She huffed, stamping her foot as she whipped the dish towel in her hands to the floor. 

“I thought you’d be proud! I joined the Legion for us, I will send you every coin I make, and I will bring honor to father’s name! Or don’t you care about that anymore?” He snarled.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that young man! I loved your father, but he went off to war and left his family with nothing. We would have starved if not for the charity of others! And now you insist on throwing your life away for nothing as well, and tell me where am I to get the funds for your funeral?” Tears sprung into the woman’s eyes. 

Tullius’ face softened a fraction and he stepped forward, “It won’t be like that Ma, I promise. I’ll be careful and I’ll train extra hard, but I have to do this don’t you see? It is all I ever wanted.”

“And what about what I want? I’ve been a good wife, and a good mother. I gave up everything for my family and never asked for anything. This one thing I ask of you and you would refuse it?” 

“I know this is hard, but it’ll be for the best you’ll see. I promise to write you as often as I can but I don’t want to be a tailor, or a smith, or trader. I want to be a soldier. The Legion needs soldiers, if no one signed up to please their mothers than this land would have no defense. Please mother, I need your support, I’ve left school early to work by your side these last few years. Can’t you just support me now?” Varian pleaded desperately.

His mother looked down as if considering his words but when she looked up her face had hardened and she said firmly, “No. I can not support you in this. Do not ask me to be happy to send my son off to die, I’ve lost enough to the damn Empire. If you go you do so without my blessing. And if you go, don’t bother coming back.” 

Gadheriel winced, surely his mother knew her own son better than that? She knew that Tullius would not take to that challenging ultimatum the way his mother had hoped. Even she knew the young man would not fall for it, and she watched in heart ache as Tullius’ face fell, a look of betrayal and hurt in his eyes but he said nothing as he left. She breathed in sharply as the feelings once again washed over her but this time the anger was fierce and when she looked back towards his mother she gasped in shock and horror. Varian’s mother’s veins stood out against her skin, thousands of little capillaries, arteries and veins lined her body but they were not the vivid blue, green or purple they usually looked but black, as black as her eyes had turned. She suddenly opened her mouth and a foul smelling black liquid, almost like ink, poured out of it, moans of thousands of people filled the air and the head of a large cobra slithered out of her throat and towards Gadheriel. She snapped out of her shock quickly and lunged at the snake, she grasped on to it and soul trapped it. Using her best shield spell to dodge its vicious strikes she grabbed it’s neck and forced her magic into its body until she found its essence. A black inky pool deep inside, cold and slimy. She drew it out and into a soul gem she fragmented, as she did so the snake melted into a pool of black slimy goo as did the mother who gurgled out, “You will not defeat me….” Before collapsing completely. 

Instead of rushing back the memory simple faded around her until she was standing upon the crystal bridge once more, her heart weighed heavily in her chest as she looked around, perhaps she wouldn’t need to find Vaermina after all. The prince seemed more than willing to find her. She kept walking until she noticed another ball of light acting strangely. The others floated freely drifting on whatever metaphysical wind there was without a will of their own but this ball of red light was floating more rapidly and in a much more willful way. She reached out for it, jumping up to grab it. The moment her fingers touched the light an iciness swept over her and she was pulled forward into another memory. An older Tullius stood in a large tent across from a young woman with blond hair and brown eyes, he seemed genuinely pleased to see her a smile she had never seen before adorned his face. It was a smile without hesitance or reluctance, one given freely and trustingly. “Gwenyth, you came.” He breathed out, “I have missed you.” He took her hands in his and kissed them softly.

She smiled faintly, “I’ve missed you too Varian, so much. Like I always do.” 

He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her against him, “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to hold you.” His hand ran up her back and ran through her hair. Gwenyth sighed and relaxed. Gadheriel stood frozen at the intimate scene before her, the General had never spoken of this woman before, in fact he had mentioned that he had been too busy for marriage. 

“I wish you could come home more, it’s very quiet in the house without you.” She said as she kissed him softly on the lips, “I’ve been working on our house, I think you’ll like the new additions I’ve put on it.”

“I was wondering where all my money went.” He commented dryly, she laughed, “Adding onto our house, what for my love?” He ran his fingers through her hair, stroking her cheek each time. She leaned into the touch and closed her eyes.

“It is rather small, especially for three.” She whispered quietly. 

The General tensed, his hand pausing as he stared down at her in shock, “Three? Is your mother sick? Or did your sister get thrown out by her husband again?”

The woman gave him a glare but then softened and sighed, “No,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “I’m pregnant. We’re going to be parents.” She smiled widely then, beaming up at him excited. 

The General looked anything but excited, he looked dismayed and disappointed, when Gwenyth noticed her smile faltered and they pulled away from one another. “What? What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy?”

He shook his head in disbelief, “I….Gwen, it’s not…I never wanted children.” He said quietly, “It’s just that I know what the world is really like and I just can’t bring a child into this mess. It wouldn’t be fair, and I’m never home, if something happened to me you’d be left alone to raise a child…It isn’t the right time.”

There was a long silence that was finally broken by Gwenyth, “Well I think it’s a little too late for that don’t you think? I’m pregnant now, this child is living within me already.”

He paused and looked at her, “Can’t you just…do what most women do to..uh get rid of unwanted problems?”

Gadheriel flinched, oh if he had said that to her he’d be dead, and sure enough Gwenyth was not having it, “Unwanted problems? Our child is an unwanted problem to you? Well I apologize that we’re such an inconvenience to you, oh great and honorable Lieutenant. It may be so easy for you to just do away with the life of your child but you won’t see me taking a tumble down the stairs like some unlucky harlot of the night!” Gwenyth raised her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek, the crack echoing through the tent loudly. He merely winced, not daring to say a word, but he needn’t have worried because Gwenyth had disappeared out the door in seconds, leaving the General behind looking numb and shocked still staring at the place she had stood. Gadheriel looked around trying to find any sign of Vaermina but it wasn’t until the General turned her way did she see it. His eyes were black and tears of ink fell over his face. The black tears ran free with a mind of their own, traveling across his skin quickly until it looked like he had been captured in a net. The net closed in, growing tighter and tighter until he screamed in pain as it seared and melted his skin and flesh. 

She wanted to turn away and close her ears, but she knew she could not she needed to watch for the right moment. He fell to his knees and grabbed on to her leg looking up at her, “He..lp m-me.” He stuttered out in pain. She nodded, “I will, just hold on a little bit longer…” The net passed through him and grew to encase him like a cocoon until all that was left was a pool of black goo, she took out another soul gem fragment and captured her essence in it, and once more the memory faded. Vaermina was trying to hide from her but unwittingly kept leading the elf directly towards her. If only Daedra knew how to act like mortals, she mused. She sighed heavily, glad to be out of that memory, she could not believe how cold the General had been. Had he even thought on his words before they came out of his mouth? It was a cruelty she didn’t know he possessed, especially directed at someone he obviously loved dearly. 

She looked around solemnly suddenly very tired, at least she knew she was heading in the right direction. The next few balls of light seemed normal but she inspected them closely nonetheless, the last one was a ball of yellow light and though it appeared just like the others she sensed something about it abnormal. She grabbed hold of it and was rushed forward into another memory. It was a foggy and grey morning, the General stood under a weeping willow tree on the bank of a small pond only a few yards away from his armies encampment. In front of him stood Gwenyth with bags under her eyes and skinnier than she had been before. “What are you doing here, Gwennie? Shouldn’t you be at home resting with the baby?” the General asked, his eyes raking across the country side as if at any moment an attack would come.

“You didn’t even come.” She said, “I gave birth to your son and you didn’t care enough about either of us to bother coming so don’t act like you care now. Obviously your career, running around in the mud killing other people, is far more important to you than I ever was or could be.” 

His eyes cut across the landscape to fixate on her in surprise, “That isn’t true, you know I love you but I can’t leave my regiment not without orders. You knew this when I was deployed, you said you understood.”

“How could I possibly understand Varian? I wasn’t a military brat like you, I had no concept. I was a foolish young girl with no life experience who was head over heels for the first man who paid her a compliment, what could I have known? I was foolish enough to think love alone could sustain us like it did characters in a novel. I had no idea of the reality of it all. No idea how lonely it’d be, how I wouldn’t sleep for days wondering if you were still alive. How I would almost throw up when anyone knocked on the door. How when I came home at night happy or sad there was no one to share it with. It is hard to love something or someone that does not exist in your life. We’ve been together for three years, and you’ve been deployed most of it.” She looked away, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“What would you have me do? It is hardly my fault, you knew I was a soldier, it is not my fault that you could not understand what that meant. I can not simply retire, not until I’ve served my time, I still have ten years of service left.” He said exasperated.

“There is nothing you can do. That’s not why I came, I came to give you some news that’ll make you happy.” She paused and looked away, “You haven’t even asked of your son, but he’s dead. He died a few hours after he was born, congratulations you got your wish.”

Gadheriel winced, her heart twisting in her chest, she looked at the General’s face and found it twisted into a grimace as if he was in pain, “That is not….I didn’t….I’m sorry you’re upset.” He stumbled over his words, and Gadheriel groaned inwardly.

“Yes, I’m sorry too. It is just terrible to be so upset at my own childs death, I should just handle it with such ease like you, well then let me practice. I’m done. We’re done. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. There, that was much easier than I thought it’d be.” She spat shoving a ring into the General’s chest and once more storming away. The General stood there many minutes staring at the ring cupped in his hand numbly, Gadheriel could see the lights dimming in his eyes, she looked away unwilling to watch it fade out completely. Her eyes turned to Gwenyth who had paused and turned her head to look at her, a wide insane smile spreading over her face her teeth black and slowly falling out, her eyes dropped and then popped out of her skull, and her nose began to bleed black. She was used to this now, she cast a soul trap and captured the essence in a fragment. The memory faded but when she came back to the bridge everything looked different. No longer were the skies a brilliant blue and green bursts of color, instead they were dark blues and dark purples with black shadows spread across them like clouds. 

Strings of black goo floated in the air shaped like snakes, they reached out to her and spun around her. Some snapped teasingly at her ankles, their tongues licking at her feet, and others spun around her tightly but there was no warmth to be found in them, only an iciness that permeated her bones. With every step she took her eyelids became heavier and heavier, exhaustion creeping into her bones, all she wanted to do was sleep for a thousand years. She could lay down and sleep right then and there, just rest for once after a long and trying few weeks, certainly she deserved that, just a few minutes to rest. She shook her head at the thought, no, she couldn’t do that. She’d be stuck here, Tyranus wouldn’t be able to separate them, she would kill them both and damn their souls to the Soul Cairn. She had to stay awake no matter how tired she suddenly was, she knew this was Vaermina’s influence, she must be getting close. She rounded the next corner and found exactly what she was looking for, thirty feet away was a bright and glowing white ball of light, it was beautiful and the energy coming from it was powerful and pure but the thick black vines snared all around it were vile and repulsive. This was where she had latched herself to, the very essence of Varian’s life force. The spark of divinity that created life and that had been given by the Aedra to all living things. 

This would be dangerous, any wrong move by her could end disastrously for the General and for a second she considered turning back but then who else would do this? Some foolish, wanna-be-a-mage nord? A breton who thought themselves superior in magic than all other races even though they had gotten their magic from the elves? Dunmer who relied on daedra? Bosmer who would rather wait for the General to die than eat him? Khajiit who would just rob him blind and give him fleas? Argonians who would talk to a tree and play in mud in an effort to cure him? No, she was the only one available with the ability to do this, she breathed in deeply and approached his essence. The closer she got the heavier the weight that pushed against her, the immense divine power thrumming loudly with life. She could hear whispers and hisses from the thin, ink-like tendrils slithering around it, she grabbed onto one only for another to whip her across the face painfully. She glared at the tendrils and raised her hands, her fingers glowed bright green as she ran them down her body, when she reached her feet she spread her arms out as if casting away something. The air seemed to almost flicker, and a blue light flashed around her, slowly the world around her came back into sight but now there were fifteen of her and the tendrils hissed. It wouldn’t take Vaermina very long at all to figure out which of the Gadheriel’s were just illusions and which one was the real one, she had to act fast. She ran fast towards the bright light of power, her clones mimicking her movements, dodging tendrils left and right while her illusions were ripped apart one by one but before they could get to her she collided with the spark of divinity. 

She clenched her eyes shut as she was consumed by the blinding light, suspended in the air as sound waves rushed around her, carrying a tinkering that was close to that of nirnroot. She could feel everything, all his feelings, his love and hate, his pain and happiness, his aching emptiness and satisfied contentment, every feeling he ever had encased her and filled her. She swelled with the depth of his emotions, afraid she might explode but then she found it, the twisted, deformed and embittered anger the size of a seed, almost invisible in the sea of emotions and yet powerful enough to poison the General and corrupt him to the point of murder. She’d be impressed if it weren’t for the fact that the source was that of a no-good meddling daedra. She reached out carefully, unsure what would happen and cast a soul trap on it but unlike the tendrils she had met before this one fought back viciously. As her magic slammed into it, Vaermina’s magic slammed into her, two tethers of magic connecting them. She screamed in agony as darkness fell around her, voices surrounded her growing louder and louder. Her mother screaming at her, her father weeping, the sound of Celoniril choking on his own blood as he died, the Stormcloaks laughter and moans of pleasure at her expense, Erandur’s soft voice stood out amongst the chaos, “My child, how could I love you, the knife in my back, the wound in my heart?” 

She closed her eyes and threw her hands over her ears but she couldn’t block them out, suddenly she felt hands on her, hands of the stormcloaks roaming her body, hands of the angry, betrayed dead trying to pull her down. “You will not break me!” She screamed forcing more strength into the soul trap casting a simple spell to drain magicka hoping that would weaken the prince even for a few seconds to get the upper hand. Vaermina simply met her power with her own, she knew the prince was toying with her, wearing her down until she was too helpless to even attempt to escape but there was nothing else for it, she couldn’t forsake the General to Vaermina’s torment. She could feel herself beginning to tire, she faltered for a moment wondering if perhaps escape would be a better option to save both of them. She could escape and find another way of saving the General without risking both of them in a pissing match with a daedric prince, but it was in that moment of weakness and uncertainty that Vaermina struck a harsh blow. The prince’s powers slammed into her and she went reeling backwards. She lost concentration and her spell broke off as she tried to reorient herself but it was too late. Tendrils were wrapping around her as she struggled in vain until she was completely encased in a woven cocoon. Panic seized her, this was it, she had failed and now they both would pay. All because she wanted the damn skull, she nearly wept at her own foolishness but instead channeled her despair into blind fury. 

A movement in the darkness caught her eye and as she focused in on it it grew until she realized it was a person. She seemed to rush forward once more until she stood two feet away from a horrific sight. The General was nailed into a stone wall with sharp wooden and metal stakes through both shoulders and legs, he was naked and beaten, cut up and bleeding. He screamed as a daedra whipped him with a fiery lash, the sound of his yells pierced her heart, “NO!” She screamed gutturally, she tried to rush forward, tried to grab the daedra, to cover his body with her own, anything at all to stop the pain he was in. If anyone deserved such torture it was her, not Varian who had acted with more honor than anyone she knew whether elf or man. The dremora laughed cruelly as it slowly began flaying the skin off his body. To witness him screaming, writhing, suffering so was unbearable to her, she could feel a protective rage and righteous outrage heating her from the inside, fighting the iciness that tried to consume her. It sent her blood into a boil, her face turning red, she felt like she was about to explode. Pain erupted behind her eyes as she swelled, she clenched them shut and her head split open, she screamed and let the righteous rage explode out of her. She could faintly hear, as if from many miles away, a wailing and cursing, promises of dismemberment and patient revenge to be plotted but then it was silent and the darkness faded. 

She felt herself rushing backwards, feelings tumbling together, colors mixing with one another sickeningly, she didn’t know what was up and what was down, couldn’t tell right from left. All she knew was that her body was lightening and dissipating like mist and her mind went blank until pain erupted once more in her head, she cried out with pain, her head splitting in two. When she opened her eyes she realized with a start that she was no longer in the soul gem, she was staring up at the stone ceiling of their rented room in Markarth, she glanced to her side to find the General still unconscious and Tyranus standing over him. The Vigilant was sending the General’s soul back into him but when he didn’t awake she felt an icy rock form in her stomach. Had she hurt him? Had she damaged him? Had Vaermina stolen him? Was he in agony as she had seen? She glanced up at Tyranus, “What’s wrong with him, why isn’t he awaking?”

“His body and soul must merge as one again, and his soul must mend itself from the splitting and whatever you may have done to it. He will not be conscious for a few days.” Tyranus explained.

“But it worked? Is Vaermina gone?” She demanded to know, her sharp gaze on the imperial.

He nodded, “Yes, I no longer sense her presence in him, only in the skull. I shall take it with me and destroy it in the wilds of Skyrim.” He held it up carefully.

“Good. Take your pay and get out of here, speak of this to no one, understand?” She commanded handing him a hefty sum of gold.

“I never met you, I spent my day in Markarth investigating the abandoned house, but have found no concrete evidence because the residents do not trust outsiders.” He said quietly. She nodded in approval and he swept out of the room leaving them alone. 

She turned to the General and sighed, she rest her hand over his heart relaxing a bit as she felt his heart beating calmly and strongly within his chest. She laid down next to him once more and turned sideways to face him before closing her eyes to rest, hoping the ache in her head would go away by the time she woke up again.


	8. The Journey: Whiterun Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy it :D Happy Valentines day everyone! I am spending it cuddling my kitties.

He opened his eyes, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the world once more. He breathed in deeply and looked around the familiar inn room, a wave of relief washed over him as he looked down at his own body. He was no longer in that soul gem, the experience was not one he wished to repeat. It had been agonizing, like being rent in two and then set on fire with a perpetual ache as if something was missing. He shifted in bed, a light weight on his chest moving. He looked down to find a hand over his heart, in bed next to him was Gadheriel breathing softly and rhythmically. Her face was relaxed in sleep but the rings around her eyes told of her exhaustion. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, her eyes fluttered open slowly and when she finally met his eyes a look of shock and a smile came over her face. She sat up on her elbow, “You’re finally awake, how’re you feeling?”

“Could be worse, at least I’m not sore anymore. How long have I been out?” He asked, he looked around for a glass of water only to find her holding one out when he turned around. He had no idea how she did that, she always seemed to know and even more uncannily could instantly produce whatever it is he wanted. Perhaps he should ask her for a million septims and his own private island to retire on. 

“Two days, Tyranus said you’d be out for a few but I was getting worried.” She said softly, peering at him. “How much do you remember?”

He frowned, “Everything leading up to being trapped in a damn soul gem, then I just remember the pain and feeling like something was missing .A few flashes of memories too. What happened?”

She sighed and squeezed his hand back, “Well Vaermina was hiding so I had to search through some of your memories to find her.” She explained hesitantly.

He looked at her sharply, feeling intruded upon, “What did you see?” He demanded, his heart beginning to beat fast and his fists clenched causing her to hiss in pain. He released her hand with a sympathetic wince, he had completely forgotten he had been holding her hand. When had they gotten so comfortable with one another that they slept in the same bed and held hands? He shook his head turning his attention back to the present matters, his eyes narrowed, “Well, did you find any secret Imperial business that I’m sure you were looking for?”

She moved away from him then and threw her legs over the bed. She stood up and peered down at him with her arms crossed over her chest, “For your information I didn’t go seeking anything out. She was hiding in your memories, I only went into the ones that looked funny, and no none of them had anything to do with the present.” She snapped. She turned away and threw her bag open, pulling out fresh robes. 

He looked away from her as she began to dress herself, “Well then what did you see? I think I have a right to know! They are my memories after all.”

“Well excuse me for seeing them, I had no choice! Would you rather I have left you under Vaermina’s control?” She cried out angrily, “What do you want from me? I derived no joy from seeing you search for your father in a crowd only to find out he was dead, nor did I enjoy watching your mother tell you not to come back. There was nothing funny about the situation with Gwenyth and your child. Though I do find it ironic that you think we’re cruel, at least elves cherish their children.” 

He jerked himself upright and glared at her, “Don’t you dare presume to tell me how I felt! You have no right, no idea what—you have no right to judge me.” He spat at her. He heaved, feeling nausea at the thought of her viewing some of his most intimate memories. How could he have known that memories were stored in the soul? He knew she had to view them but it didn’t mean he still didn’t feel violated. 

She turned back to him, completely dressed and pulled her hair back, “You always think the worst of me Varian, always. No matter what I do. I saved your life but that wasn’t good enough for you, you must accuse me of having ulterior motives in that regard. I am sorry I didn’t want you to suffer.”

“It was your fault my life was in danger to begin with!” He snapped, “If you recall correctly I told you to destroy that blasted skull! But oh no, the elf knows best, and here we are. So don’t you try to twist this around like it was some gallant rescue and you’re some sort of shining hero.” He breathed in deeply, he turned away. Why did she have to view those memories? He hadn’t ever talked to anyone about them, he wished he could rid himself of them.

The room was silent for a minute before she spoke up, “You’ve nothing to be…embarrassed or ashamed about. I have seen much worse and while some of those moments weren’t your best that doesn’t mean you aren’t a good man because you are.” She said quietly, the bed dipping as she sat down behind him. 

He glared at the stone wall, he didn’t trust himself to answer. He felt knotted up inside, his feelings a jumbled mess that he couldn’t even begin to sort through at the moment. Too much had happened and the memories were blurring together, his mens deaths, Gwenyth, his mother, his father, it all felt like a crushing weight upon him and he had no idea what to do with any of it but try to keep himself together. He was the Imperial General for divines sake, not some lost school boy. He scowled at himself, there was no time for weakness in the midst of a war, its what got people killed. Perhaps what had gotten his men killed. He had been too weak, too preoccupied with this damn elf. What was he even doing traipsing around Skyrim with her? He knew she wasn’t going to betray her people, he was simply following after her like a loyal dog. When had he gotten so caught up in her life that he had forsaken his own? He wondered had he focused more on his job rather than this woman, if his men would still be alive. He tensed as his stomach flip flopped within him and his heart sunk. 

“Don’t speak about something you know nothing about, it makes you look ridiculous. You wouldn’t know a good man from a hole in the wall with the sort of people you hang around with.” He retorted as he swung himself out of bed. Irritation gnawed at him like a constant burning under the skin. He searched for clean clothes, it was in the washing room he found his armor and clothes perfectly cleaned and polished. He picked it up hesitantly, glancing at the empty doorway before inspecting his armor. She had mended it perfectly, washed it and polished it until it looked brand new; it hadn’t looked this good in years no matter how careful he was with it. He sighed, why couldn’t she just fit in the box labeled enemy combatant to make his life easier? No, she had to do these little things for him that humanized her. He smirked knowing how pissed she’d be if he ever told her that little bit. He could not explain what was happening between them, they argued like bitter rivals, laughed like they were friends, protected one another like fellow soldiers in the field, and then the most inexplicable of all they had such tender moments. 

She had sat and fed him when he was incapable of doing it for himself much to his own mortification, and he would never forget the few moments in Dawnstar where her hands ran over his bare chest. He shivered at the thought and cursed the ache it caused in his chest, he hadn’t realized how much he had wanted that sort of human contact until she had reminded him. He shook his head, it was doomed from the beginning, this entire charade of an operation was cursed. He knew nothing good could come of it and yet he couldn’t walk away from it. He felt chained to her, and the worst part of it was that he didn’t seem to mind it. He washed in the basin before dressing once more, his stomach grumbled as he returned to the main room. She had taken the time to pack their things neatly by the door. She didn’t bother looking at him, she just threw open the door and left, leaving him to follow after. 

They left the city after picking up two horses at the stables and rode in silence until he could not take it any longer, “Where are we heading?” 

“Rorikstead, it is the last place we know you were for an extended period of time, or have you forgotten your little traipse around Skyrim?” She said snidely, glaring at him. 

He breathed in, already it was shaping up to be a long day but he knew he had hurt her feelings. He had seen it in her eyes but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize, after all it was her fault that he had been under Vaermina’s influence and she hadn’t apologized to him, the two lack of apologies surely canceled one another out, right? He glowered at his horse, he couldn’t deal with her emotions when his own were going haywire within him. A pervasive sadness mixed with rage coursed through him unrelentingly, it was her fault, her damn fault for keeping that cursed skull. Foolish elf. He threw a glare at her but then softened at the memory of her hand over his heart. She had easily given up the skull when she had realized it was effecting him, surely that meant something.

After many silent hours spent in a constant tug of war in his mind they arrived in Rorikstead, the village was small and rather insignificant. Many of the inhabitants he knew were uneducated and easily led like sheep. They were a simple and angry lot of farmers, not a bunch anyone would want to visit unless they absolutely had to and they definitely had to. He glanced at Gadheriel wondering how much danger the elf was in striding into town wearing her Thalmor robes. He wasn’t going to be all that welcome either, and sure enough only a few feet into town he heard an angry farmer yelling at them. He turned to look at the redguard pointing and waving his finger at him madly, “You! You’ve got a lot of nerve showing yourself in this town again. What do you have to say for yourself?”

They dismounted and tied their horses to the redguard’s fence before he answered, “You remember me?”

“How could I forget? You come running into town like a mad man, drunk as all hell and kidnap my precious Gleda, and you ask if I remember you? How could I forget! I’ll remember your face until the day I die, you sold my Gleda, my precious Gleda—the finest of her kind I’ll have you know! I won’t be the same without her. She never hurt a soul, her only crime was how inquisitive she always was and terribly trusting. She trusted you and you sold her to a Giant!”

The man’s eyes were burning a hole straight through him, “Do you remember which way he went? Or where the Giant makes camp?” Gadheriel asked her arms folded across her chest. The redguards eyes shifted from him to her and even he could feel the temperature drop. He hadn’t thought the man could get more angry, but a far darker look crossed the mans’ eyes.

“And now you drag that filth back into town with you! Should have known you’d be best buddies with the damn thalmor, no good worthless elves!” Ennis spat. “The camp is that way, just over the hill. Now I have nothing more to say to either of you until I have my Gleda back so get out before I call the guards.”

They began their long trek, thankful the day wasn’t too warm, he looked over at Gadheriel her hair nearly blinding in the sun, “So you’ve been here before I take it, made quite an impression on that man.”

She looked at him cautiously as if weighing her words and his mood, “I have, it was actually my first stop in my tour of the holds. All I discovered here was that there was a dire need of plumbing or at least a communal bath.” She smiled a little, “Ennis is a bit high strung, very tense and on guard due to being an outsider here. Surely you’ve noticed the nords lack of…hospitality to anyone other than a nord. Makes him a little unpleasant at times. I think you made the greater impression on him though.” 

“You honestly think I kidnapped his child?” He asked her suddenly, worry ate at him alongside guilt. The child must have been terrified when he had grabbed her, and what if the giants had harmed her? How could he sell a small child to a giant? What was in that drink? 

“Ah, no I don’t. Ennis doesn’t have children.” She said amused, her eyes glinted. 

His eyes narrowed, “Than who is this Gleda? His wife? Sister? Cousin? I know you know, I don’t see what is so funny about it!” He glared at her half-heartedly, at least with a purpose he didn’t have to focus on his emotions so much. 

“Gleda is a goat, his favorite, prize-winning goat.” She explained snickering.

He frowned, stunned and then completely baffled, “A goat!? He is angry because I stole a goat?! If he thinks I am going to risk my life fighting a giant when the empire has them as a protected entity over a goat he has another thing—” He began as he turned around to face the town. He was intent on going back there, there was no way he was wasting time over a damn goat but Gadheriel grabbed his arm. He looked at her in disbelief, “You can not seriously tell me you want to chase after a damn goat!”

“No, but I do want to get to the bottom of this and the only way we are going to do that is by finding this goat so perhaps Ennis will tell us anything he knows, now come on. Usually you’re the level headed one.” She commented, pulling him gently up the hill. 

He huffed annoyed, “Oh very well. Though I don’t see why it matters what happened.” That wasn’t exactly true, until they knew exactly what had happened neither of them knew if something had been done to him or he had done something terrible that could effect the delicate situation in Skyrim. The thought filled him with dread and worry, he could only imagine what the Emperor would say if he had sanctioned him to go with Gadheriel only to find out he had sabotaged his own people. 

He groaned as they reached the top of the hill, his knees were killing him, he looked over at the elf five times his age and glared at her just standing there neither fazed nor winded. “Show off.” He huffed, she just gave him an innocent smile and nodded towards the Giant’s camp only a few dozen yards away. “At least it isn’t that far. I’m getting too damn old.”

“And just think you only have to go down hill to bring precious Gleda back.” She said as they moved forward. 

As they neared the camp he threw his arm out to stop her, he glanced at her unsurprised to find her hands glowing with magic, “Giants are protected by the Empire.”

She gave him an exasperated look, “You can not be serious right now, it’s not even a human. It’s just a large animal with similar features. They have no discernible culture, no language, they do not evolve or progress. They simply survive, like an animal. A very stupid, large, smelly, useless animal. Not to mention the danger they bring to civilized beings.”

“They are living things, nothing else matters. They were here far longer than you, I or the nords. I will not allow you to harm them.” He said firmly, tensing, preparing for a fight but instead she just threw her hands out her magic dissipating in the air. 

“Fine, then what’s the plan?” She turned to him, her hands on her hips, as she looked at him expectantly.

“Well there’s only one giant, no mammoths, no other reinforcements. One of us could sneak in, grab the goat, if things go wrong the other can cause a distraction as the other gets out of there.” He looked at her.

“We could just paralyze him, grab the goat and run.” She said dryly. 

He looked at her with envy thinking of all the times that he could have used that power. He wondered if he could learn, she had freed his magic, why couldn’t he? “Fine. That would be safer.”

“Well we’d have to get in and out fast, the larger the enemy the shorter the duration it seems. Better to wait to paralyze until we’re up close.” She said grinning excitedly. He didn’t see what she was so enthused about but he didn’t have time to question her as she suddenly just bolted straight at the giant. The great lumbering beast stood up and raised his club grunting angrily. He rushed in after her, but not towards the giant. He scooped up the goat, grunting at the weight of the small thing. He wondered how something so insignificant could weigh so much. He watched Gadheriel dancing around the Giant as he clumsily swung the club into the ground again and again, causing the ground to quake beneath them. “Got it! Let’s go!” He yelled, she looked at him and nodded, his heart nearly froze as she barely missed the next swing, “Stop playing around with it!” She raised her hands and threw a bolt of blinding green light at it. It froze and she yelled, “Run!” 

He didn’t need to be told twice, in fact he didn’t need to be told once the minute the giant had frozen he had split. He ran down the hill, with every step jolts of pain traveled from his knee up his leg. He was grateful when they finally reached the farm, he dropped the goat at Ennis’ feet and bent over panting. Sweat dripped down his face, his knees, arms and back hurt, and he couldn’t breathe. He glanced at the elf and found her once again standing there as if she hadn’t put an ounce of effort in their escape. At least he had kept up with her, and at his age that was saying a lot. She was glaring at Ennis, “We brought your damn goat back now you’re going to tell us everything you know about what happened that night.”

Ennis glared at her, “I ain’t tellin’ you nothing you knife-eared cunt.” 

Gadheriel stiffened, she flinched just enough for him to notice, his eyes drifted to her ears. Ears that had been mutilated by people very much like Ennis, he glared at the redguard and snatched him by the collar. He dragged him forward and lifted him up until his feet barely grazed the ground. “You will show my associate and I some respect. Regardless of your political inclinations, you are safe, well-fed and sheltered because we have kept it so, there are plenty who wished they were in your shoes. So you will answer our questions honestly and politely, understand?” He growled, rage coursed through him at this mans’ disrespect. Gadheriel just risked her life getting this man’s favorite goat back, and all he could do was insult her? He would not allow this man to send Gadheriel back into her shell. She still had nightmares, he could hear her whimpering in her sleep every night, but he was just beginning to see her truly smile again, no farmer was going to take that away from her again.

“Or what? What’re you going to do, General?” Ennis snarled, his eyes darting around.

“Do you honestly think you have friends here? In this place full of people who believe that Skyrim belongs to the nords?” He asked, “You’re alone in this Stormcloak loving town, the only people who have your back in this town at the moment is us, the only other outsiders.” 

Ennis seemed to deflate at his words and the lack of response from his neighbors who just kept walking by as if nothing was happening. “Fine. Put me down and I’ll tell you what I know.” He nearly whispered, clearly embarrassed as his bravado failed him. “You were completely out of your mind but you dropped a note, it was mostly gibberish. The only thing I could make out of it was ‘after repaying Ysolda in Whiterun. That’s all I know, alright?”

He searched the redguards eyes for any sign of deceit but found only simmering anger and humiliation. He let go of the man who fell to the ground with a soft grunt. He turned back to Gadheriel, “Well, it looks like we get to head back to Whiterun.”

She nodded and walked back to her horse, “That’s still a days ride away, we won’t make it by nightfall but I’d rather leave now and camp in the wilds than stay here.” 

He wasn’t surprised she wanted to leave as soon as possible, even he was uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping in hostile territory. It would be foolish to do so, much had already happened for once he didn’t feel like pushing fates buttons. “Alright, but we should get supplies first, I checked mine on the ride over, I’m getting low. I don’t see a merchant any place…”

“The inn will have everything you need. Well except for a room, you know us meddling outsiders and all.” She rolled her eyes as she rifled through her own pack. 

“That is putting it kindly I think.” He said as she joined him, her bag slung over her shoulder. 

* * *

She walked beside him stealing a few glances at him as they approached the inn, she couldn’t help but hide a smile. She hadn’t expected him to come to her defense over a few rude words that had felt like a knife in her chest. No one had ever been so protective over her, it left a strange warmth in her chest. She followed him into the small inn and took in her surroundings, two male nords sitting in the corner glaring at them and sipping beers, a redguard woman trying to dance with a male breton bard in the middle of the room, two obnoxious female nords at the bar gossiping and another male nord leaning against a support at the side of room his eyes were fixated on them. She tilted her chin up and moved closer to Varian, feeling embarrassed at her uneasiness. Even so she was grateful when he moved closer to her and brushed his fingers against her own, she looked at him and smiled weakly in thanks, he nodded, “Come on, sooner we get this over with the sooner we get out of her, Commander.” He said firmly.

She stiffened, breathing in sharply, yes she was a Thalmor Commander, not some whimpering damsel in distress. The muscles in her jaw tightened and she jutted her chin out defiantly. She forced herself to breeze by him as if he was too slow and knocked on the counter for the attention of the innkeeper, her eyes flitted to the people around her, her heart beating fast. She wiped her hands on her robe and straightened herself up, no nord was going to get under her skin, or at the very least she would not allow them to know they had. It only took a few minutes for the innkeeper to appear at the top of the basement stairs and look at her suspiciously. “What can I do for you?” The nord asked sharply.

“Just some supplies if you please. I need some fruit and vegetables, any herbs and alchemical plants you may have and soap for both body and clothes.” She said as she shoved a handful of gold on the bar. The woman’s eyes lit up and she greedily scooped it all up and hurried off to fulfill her wishes. The nord didn’t disappoint, coming back with a large crate holding all her supplies. She nodded at the woman and began to pick over what she could fit in her pack, taking only the absolute essentials.

“You have any potatoes, salted venison, and rope?” He asked searching his armor for septims, when he could only find two his face reddened and he stumbled over an apology. She stood up and placed more gold on the counter, he stiffened and said sharply, “That isn’t necessary, I am perfectly capable of taking care of my own expenses, I was just checking to see if they had some in case I did run out.” 

She gave him an exasperated look, “Honestly, you men are all the same human or elf. He will take the supplies, whether his poor little ego and pride can take the blow is another matter.” A few tense minutes later the innkeeper came back with his supplies and once they left the inn the General rounded on her.

“I see you’re still taking every opportunity to degrade me further. Oh the poor human can’t even pay for himsel—” He began to rant.

She sucked a breath in and just brushed past him as fast as she could. He would never change, no matter how nice she tried to be or how considerate she would always just be the evil elf he was forced to look after because she was too incompetent to defend herself against farmers. She strode as fast as she could away from him, not even glancing back at him even though she could hear him jogging to catch up. “What now I don’t even get the—”

“Please just stop.” She said her voice shaking much to her own irritation, “I apologize for trying to be kind. I understand how it might make you suspicious of my ulterior motives, because obviously I am an evil mastermind intent on your downfall. Obviously I’m incapable of being kind, or a morally good person at all.” She blinked back the tears of hurt that threatened to spill at any second. Her chest burned as did her eyes, obviously she was no good and would never be good enough to meet his high exacting standards. She no longer heard his footfalls behind her but she didn’t much care at the moment, she just wanted to get away from him, she certainly didn’t want him to see her crying, to see how much he had upset her. How could he have done such sweet things for her then turn around and treat her like she was nothing but selfish, cruel and evil? 

Suddenly footsteps ran up behind her and a hand grabbed her arm, fear kicked in before her mind and she turned around with her hands full of fire and very nearly burned the General, she would have had he not grabbed her wrist. She breathed out and jerked her wrist away from him, she went to turn away but he grabbed her arm again and turned her back to him, “Please Gadheriel, I’m sorry. I just….it is embarrassing. I’ve never had to rely on someone else and I—I’m sorry.” He said his arms folding across his chest as he looked away.

“I was just trying to repay you for defending me, I forget though I’m nothing but an evil no good elf without a single redeeming factor.” She hissed at him. “You always assume the worst of me, and I don’t understand why.”

He looked back at her in surprise, “You don’t get it? After everything, you still don’t get it? You would harm my people Gadheriel, people just like me to accomplish your goals. Are you telling me if someone was a threat to your own people—regardless of the reason—you wouldn’t be on guard? You would be completely comfortable around someone who would harm you?”

“I would never harm you, don’t you get that by now? For whatever reason, I am incapable of it.” She said quietly, he reached for her again and this time she allowed his gentle touch. 

“Don’t you understand? I am my people, Gadheriel you didn’t even really know me a month ago, just like you don’t know all of my people.” He said, “You assume far too much based on your far too limited experience.” 

She looked at him and wrapped her arms around herself, “Are you telling me there’s more than one of you wandering around the Imperial City?” She smiled a little.

“Well, I’d like to think I am the bravest, strongest, most ruggedly handsomest one of them all.” He said flippantly. 

She smiled at him, never having heard him joke in such a way, “Maybe, I dunno, I suppose I’ll have to go and see for myself if that’s the case.” She said thoughtfully, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” She turned around as if nothing had happened, all was forgiven but she was still left pondering his words and questioning herself again. Somehow he always managed to do that to her. 

They were nearly to Ennis’ farmhouse when a loud yelling and the sound of a child crying came from the house to their right. She frowned, moving closer. “Gadheriel, what’re you doing?” Tullius questioned her. 

She turned back and pressed her finger to her lips, she remembered this house vividly from her last visit. Rumor had it around town that the man who lived here treated his twin daughters deplorably but no one bothered to do anything about it. As she got closer she could hear what he was saying, “You worthless piece of shit! I expect you to do as I say when I say it, do you understand? You think anyone else would put up with your bullshit? No one wants you, you’re worth absolutely nothing and far more trouble than you’re worth!” She took a deep breath in at the volatile words, her eyes meeting the Generals grim ones. It was the sudden sound of skin hitting skin that snapped their attention back to the house. She approached the window and peered in. What she saw made her heart drop to the floor; Sissel lay on the floor, her face bleeding and bruised, her father stood over her raining down brutal, full-powered blows on her small, fragile frame. Her chest tightened and she looked away, but was unable to block out the cries of pain and the pleads for her papa to stop. All she could think of was little Svari, she always had a soft spot for children, they were the only true innocents in all of this. And if the Thalmor hoped to redeem mankind it would have to start with the children, born without bias. 

She glared at the door and stormed over there, rage coursing through her veins, “What’re you doing? Gadheriel you can’t, you know the holds don’t have laws against how one chooses to punish their children. We have no right, no legal claim, to interfere.”

She looked at him coldly, “No, Varian, the Imperial Legion has no right to interfere, but fortunately that is exactly what the Thalmor are best at.” She threw a fireball at the door and watched as splinters flew through the air. She could hear the children scream from inside and the man hollering and cursing, The townspeople began to wander over but she didn’t care. She strode in and glared at Lemkil, the girls father, “Move away from her, you filthy beast.” She commanded calmly. 

“What right do you have to come destroy my property and trespass in my house? This is my child and I’ll discipline her as I see fit! Now you best get out of here, or it’ll be you next.” He said as he grabbed Sissel by the hair. 

Her pitiful but weak cry broke something inside of Gadheriel and she lunged forward, knives and daggers slowly began to float and aim at him then with a growl of rage she pointed at him and they became only a blur of color as they plunged forward into his chest, neck and face. He fell backwards, the only sound he was capable of making was a sickening gurgling noise. She knelt over Sissel and winced, she had been beaten savagely, without mercy, as if she was a full grown three hundred pound warrior and not just a little eight year old girl. “Gods. Varian, get the herbs from my pack, now!” It was a miracle the child wasn’t already dead, she was afraid to move her just yet unsure how badly she was injured. 

Varian dumped the small bag of herbs out across the floor next to her and she grabbed what she needed, “Get me a bowl fill it just a little with water then bring it to me with a rock or something heavy.” She carefully undressed Sissel, horrified to find the bruising continued across her torso, all in different stages of healing. What kind of monster did this to a child? Even the Thalmor wouldn’t harm a child, not even an orc child. Children were precious to them in so many ways. Elven children especially. They were much more picky when it came to their own kinds children, but others had the hope of redemption. They were innocent and pure, they held the light of life, the energy of the Aedra much more clearly and closely than adults did. These damn Stormcloak sympathizers, crying about the thalmor but then brutalizing their own children. Sissel moaned softly, her fingers twitching.

“Shh, it’s okay Sissel, it’s alright, you’re safe now I promise you. Everything will be fine, I’ll make sure of it.” She soothed the child, she glanced up as Tullius handed her the items, she quickly ground the ingredients, added a binding agent and whipped it into an ointment. She began to gently spread it over her body to reduce the swelling and take care of the nastiest bruises, “In my bag you’ll find some healing potions and a regeneration one, get them she’ll need it.” 

“Bastard.” Tullius spat as he handed her the vials, “Who does this to a child?”

“Stormcloaks. This is what the nords want to rally around. Disgusting.” She hissed as she helped Sissel raise her head enough to drink. She waited a few minutes but when Sissel’s body relaxed she scooped her up knowing it was safe to move her. She cocooned the small, and far too light, child against her chest, golden threads of her restoration magic bursting forth out of her and wrapping her up. 

“Please, ladies, gentlemen, give us some space so my associate can save her life.” Tullius said to the crowd that had at some point crept into the hut. 

“What’s going on here?” A guard demanded shoving his way through as he puffed out his chest in an attempt to look important. 

“Lemkil was beating his kid again, this elf finally put a stop to it—Good on her!” An elderly nord woman cried out to many other murmurs of agreement. 

The townspeople usually so disdainful began to look at her in a different light, the glares softened and they gave her a respectful distance as she worked on the young child. Sissel’s face was bruised badly, her lip split, nose broken, her jaw hung at a strange angle, her eye socket looked fractured, there was a cut on her temple gushing blood profusely. A handprint was imprinted on her neck, dark bruises mingled with yellow and green ones all over her ribs and back. She gently moved the girls hair out of her face and let her fingers run down her face, healing magic pressing into her flesh as she went. Cheekbones, and her eye socket bones snapped back into place and mended, her dislocated jaw moved back into place with a horrid cracking noise. The girl screamed and whimpered, writhing in her arms. She felt terrible for causing her pain, she cooed to her softly and rocked her. She looked over at Varian who was peering at her curiously. “Please get me a bowl of warm water and a clean rag, also find me some clean clothes?”

“She only has one pair of clothes and she can’t have any of mine.” Britte said snottily, her arms folding across her chest.

“I just got a shipment of new children’s clothes. I’ll grab them, she can have’em free of charge Miss.” The innkeeper spoke up, her eyes looking at her softly. 

“Thank you, that would be great.” She nodded towards the innkeeper, and took the bowl of hot water from Varian. She dipped the cloth in it and gently began to clean the blood off of Sissel’s face. She looked down at the child tenderly as she cleaned her up, her heart squeezed as Sissel snuggled into her. It didn’t take long for the Innkeeper to come back with a bag of clothes. She shifted through the bag containing two dresses, two night gowns and a pair of shoes, and gently pulled a night gown over the bare child. She had healed her broken bones and treated her bruises. Her internal injuries had been healed and were healing still with the potions. The bruises would fade eventually but she could do nothing else for the little one. She picked the child up and carried her out, the nords parted quietly, only when she got outside did someone pipe up, “Where you taking her elf?”

She paused where was she taking this child? She had no idea what to do with her now, she couldn’t take Sissel with her by any means, nor could she stay with her sister who bullied her. She didn’t want to take the girl to the orphanage in riften and she didn’t know anyone in town who would take her. A protectiveness washed over her that she was unaccustomed to, she may love children but she never thought to have one of her own, she didn’t know what the feeling was that over took her. She looked to Varian, “Perhaps we can find her a home?”

“There’s the Honorhall Oprhanage in riften.” He mentioned quietly.

She shook her head, “No, I’ve been there, it isn’t a good place. I won’t subject her to that, she’s been through enough, she needs a loving home.” 

“I’ll take her.” An old breton man came forward wearing fine quilted clothes and sporting a long beard, “I know the girl well, she is my apprentice. I’ll raise her, please, I want to, she is a natural mage.” 

Sissel cracked her tired eyes open, Gadheriel looked down at her and said, “Do you know him? Would you like to go live with him?” She asked softly. Sissel smiled a little and nodded, “Jouanne! Can I really come live with you?” She asked timidly.

He nodded, “Yes child, of course. It would be my pleasure sweet child, come. You must be tired.” He held out his arms for her and she responded in kind. Gadheriel passed her off to him and watched her chest seizing with pain as the little girl snuggled into the man and he held her close. She pulled herself together enough to hand him a few potions and instructed him when to give them to her. He thanked her, and she nodded turning away as fast as she could. She wished she could go back in time and crawl into her fathers’ arms just once more. Just one more time. She walked towards their horses like nothing had occurred, Varian running to catch up to her. His eyes still studying her, “Perhaps I judged you too harshly.”

She shook her head, “I told you before, to elves children are precious. It hardly matters if they are elven children or not.” She replied despondently. 

“Gadheriel?” He asked her as he laid a hand on her shoulder. She felt like she was about to fall to pieces. She pulled away from him to save herself, a large lump formed in her throat, an ache traveling up it. 

“Come on lets get out of here before something else happens. We need to get back to Whiterun.” She said quietly as she swung herself on top of her horse. She looked out at the town hoping Sissel would be safe in her new home, wondering if Britte would be taken to the orphanage. The little girl was a bully but she didn’t have much of a chance with the father she had. Neither girl did. She felt empty and hollow, but that was much preferable than the despair she had felt minutes before. She pulled on the reins of her horse to turn it around and began to canter down the road, Tullius only a few feet behind. As the day passed the empty feeling began to fade the farther they got away from Rorikstead, her mind wandered to this staff Sam had promised Varian, wondering why cause such chaos over a simple staff? It made no sense, and why would Varian want a staff when he didn’t even know how to use his magic?

Evening was falling rapidly now, they’d have to find a place to make camp, they were two-thirds of the way to Whiterun but she hated traveling in the dark. You couldn’t see ambushes in the dark after all. She led them off the road and up a large hill, atop of which was a rather flat expanse of grassy ground. She tied the horses up and got a fire going while Varian pitched their large tent. Everything was done in silence until they were eating dinner. Varian picked at his food before he sighed and looked up at her, “I want to learn magic. Can you teach me?” His voice was gruff, she knew he hated asking for help. He was so prideful and strong, that he rarely had to. 

She nodded a little, “Yes, if you’d like. What exactly are you interested in?” 

“You paralyzed that giant, that could be useful. I’ve seen your other magic as well, throwing knives and daggers, covering the ground with black ice, reforming snow and dirt like it was sand waiting to be shaped…it all seems rather useful.” He said slowly, thinking it over. 

“Alteration and Conjuration are the schools of magic I have mastery in, although you haven’t seen much of my Conjuration skills. It’s probably best you didn’t try to conjure anything until you have a good understanding of it and how to talk and treat your summons. You must be their master or they will turn on you, especially Dremora.” She said quietly, thinking things over, she was excited that he wanted to learn magic, she had much to teach him. “Alteration is a difficult and tedious school to master. It is not simply like waving a sword about until you can hit something. It requires study of living organisms and inanimate objects, you can not alter something if you don’t know anything about it after all. It will be a long time until you can paralyze something but we can start with a basic armor spell.”

His eyes dropped but she could see the disappointment in them. She wasn’t surprised, most humans thought magic was easy, that all it took was power of will but it was more than picturing what you wanted to happen and then casting hoping for it to happen. Will-magic was strongly possible but it sapped a mage completely and in untrained, undisciplined hands it could kill them. “What’s the easiest branch of magic to learn then?”

“Destruction actually. Destroying is much easier than changing, creating or repairing.” She answered, “I can teach you a bunch of destruction magic quite easily.”

“But all it does is destroy.” He mentioned almost to himself, she smiled it was one of the reasons it was so easy to master, only one principle involved. She wondered which schools he would prefer. “Fine, then teach me. Teach me destruction and we can start on alteration.”

“Alright, lets start with shock magic, it is the easiest to create. Everything in this world has energy, whether it be latent or active. This energy on a very minuscule level is pure but very close to that of lightning. We have that energy as well but we don’t want to just use ours or it’ll run out, we’ll get tired and after only a few spells we’ll be no good. You must pull from your surroundings.” She said as she looked around trying to find something that he could practice on. “Hold on a second.” She got up and wandered around a bit until she saw a family of rabbits, mama, papa and quite a few babies. She paralyzed them and brought them back with her. 

“Rabbits?” He asked confused, as she sat in front of him again, she dumped them all over their legs and paralyzed them again to make sure. 

“Yes. We are going to take their energy.” She grabbed one of the baby bunnies and released it from its paralysis. Both hands wrapped around it so only its head was showing. “Now, to do this you must find your magic and let it travel to your hands then press it into the bunny. It’s much like how my magic traveled through you. Then you will use the bunny as your anchor, you will pull magic from your connection with the bunny not within yourself.” She spent the next few minutes teaching him how to transform energy into lightning, fire, and ice specifically before she demonstrated the energy. She slowly pulled her hands away from the bunny but it didn’t move. At her fingertips were light blue threads of magicka that seemed to be attached to the bunny as well. “This is the rabbits energy funneling into me, but you must be aware of how much energy something holds. Living things hold more, larger living things hold the most. You must never pull from friendly people. Never. Unless you know exactly what you are doing and have the express permission from the person or people you are doing it to. Enemies are free game.” She cast the strongest lightning spell she knew at a tree a few feet away from them, severing a branch from it, as she did so the bunny gave a tiny, weak squeak and fell over dead. 

He frowned looking uncomfortable as she threw the bunny towards her pack feet away, “Now you try.” She said raising an eyebrow at him.

“Is it really necessary to kill them?” He asked looking down at the baby rabbit in his hands.

“The intent is not to kill, it is merely to take their energy. That kills them, but you must be clear on your intent otherwise it will not work. There are sacrifices to be made in learning magic my dear Varian. Nothing is without sacrifice in this world. If it makes you feel any better it’s a painless and quick death unlike being eaten alive by a wolf.” She commented wryly, her heart softened at his discomfort at killing them. It did surprise her since he seemed so willing to cut humans down, though she supposed that was different. Still, he had to master this if he wished to go further. “Magic has many ways of helping us. Whether by destroying our enemies or healing our people, but there will always be consequences and sacrifices to make for such a feat of power, if you’re not willing to pay it then you will never be able to wield magic.”

“I can’t just go around killing things to help myself.” He frowned. 

She rolled her eyes and then shook her head, “There are so many things wrong with what you just said. First of all you kill all the time, killing people is literally the career you chose. You can dress it up all you like, but in the end it boils down to lawful murder. Secondly, this is only how you learn in the beginning, you think the tiny amount of energy in that baby rabbit fueled that spell by itself? No. You see, you draw from more than one source, and of course yourself. Destruction needs energy, you can’t give it only yourself, but you don’t need to give it only one living thing either. You eventually learn how to draw from multiple sources at once without the need to touch them and you can control the amount of energy taken. I could easily light a fire with the rabbits without killing them. You need to practice though first to get used to reaching out with your magic to siphon energy. You say you want to learn magic, how much do you want it?”

She stared at him with her arms crossed, this was not something she would budge on. Students of the arcane should not be babied into it, nor did books teach you the reality of a situation, though they were good to read but she always believed it was only after experiencing it should they be brought in. He sighed and looked away. “Then tell me why the sudden interest in magic? All this time you’ve never shown an inclination towards magic.” 

He scowled, “Well it’s about time I learn isn’t it? If I can use it to protect the people then I should. There aren’t many mages in the Legion, we should have more especially fighting against—well you all I suppose.”

She raised her brow, “Oh if Elenwen saw me teaching magic to the enemy who openly admits he wishes to use it against us…” She snorted but she knew it was no laughing matter. She was treading on very dangerous water, undoubtedly Elenwen would have noted the changes in the Legion and she highly doubted Bastillion or his men had kept quiet by now about the report Rikke had made. She knew there must be Thalmor out searching for her already. “Your mages are terrible, they go about magic like clumsy oafs. Even a small elven child could defeat your peoples pathetic attempts at the arcane. You have a High Elf, mastered in magic, the best sort of teacher in all the world in front of you and you’re whining about killing a damn rabbit. What do you expect an explosive fire ball will do to someone Varian? It’ll blast them into pieces, it’ll burn them alive.”

He nodded, “You’re right, alright then lets do this.” She could tell he was gathering himself, his cheeks turning red in embarrassment she passed him a baby rabbit and he closed his eyes. She watched as the rabbit began to glow then it screamed His eyes shot open and he let go, the bunny scampered out of his lap and across the field only to be pulled back by her magic. “What—”

“Too much. You overloaded the bunny with your magic, you need not pour magic into it, that is not the point. You merely need a tiny thread of your magic, like a sewing needle, to go into the rabbit and search it for its energy. Try again but be delicate.” She said giving him the rabbit once more. She waited patiently for him to begin but when he did the same thing happened, she sighed. She had to remind herself that magic came much more intuitively to elves than mankind. She placed her hands over his, “Here, let me show you.” She said softly and once more her magic worked its way through him like it had in the Temple of Vaermina. When she found his magic she directed it, she noted that his threads were to large and she wrapped her own around it and funneled it into a smaller one then used her magic as guard rails until it reached the rabbit. She accompanied him into the rabbit and to its energy and said, “Now push into the rabbit, yes like that. Now you feel that thrumming in your fingers?”

“Yes…” He said softly, “It’s odd, almost like I am vibrating.”

“Raise one of your hands and imagine a lightning bolt, you know what it feels like to be shocked, what it looks like…yes now release it.” She said as his fingers began to glow blue, he spread his fingers out and aimed it at the ground a weak and thin bolt zapped out but he had managed to produce one, the rabbit flopped over dead in his hands. He threw it away from him disgusted. “You did it!” 

“Not very well.” He said gruffly.

She snorted, “You’re just learning, did you think you’d master it in one lesson? Let’s try some alteration now. We can go through the schools of magic and see which one comes easiest to you.” 

He looked at her then and slowly said, “You shouldn’t be in the Thalmor, you are better than that.” 

She looked at him and frowned, “We have this argument all the time—”

He held his hands up, “No, that isn’t what I mean. While I do think you have good intentions and maybe some others do as well, you have to admit a lot of your peers do not. Any organization split like that is going to fail, or divide itself into a civil war of sorts. It won’t end well, surely you can see that. It is just that…I may not have known you for long, but you could accomplish your goals more in a better organization. I’ve met many a Thalmor Gadheriel, not all, but many. None of them are like you.”

She looked at him confused, what was he saying? That she was bad at her job? There were plenty of others who believed in their mission, who didn’t like to torment their inferiors, perhaps they still hated them but didn’t wish pain and suffering on them. She didn’t know where she’d be without the Thalmor, she had given up so much for them, too much and they had given her the best education anyone could ask for. Power in exchange for her entire life. It wasn’t a lifestyle for everyone but it was a lifestyle meant to serve others. It was her own way of atoning for her sins, although she needn’t have had sins to atone for had she not stuck her nose into Thalmor business to begin with. “Not all Thalmor are like Elenwen or like those at Northwatch—”

“Not many would sit with a human and teach them magic.” He said quietly, “Not many would destroy a powerful artifact to save a man. Not many would nurse an enemy back to health, or trust them with their lives.”

She bit her lip, she had no argument for that. She couldn’t deny it, she knew many of her mates would rather not be around mankind, even those that were more kind. “One day I’ll have to take you to meet some of the soldiers in my regiment. You have a bias against Thalmor.” 

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean I am wrong. What if the elves who believe as you do lose the in fighting?” He asked softly.

She shifted uncomfortably, she had thought of this. Her attitude towards mankind had been the reason she had been sent out on this mission to begin with. It was a punishment. A punishment for being kind to men, how could they punish her for upholding their beliefs in a kind way? It had bothered her for a while but so much had happened that it got pushed to the back of her mind. She didn’t want to take it out to examine just then but she couldn’t ignore the General’s words either, it would not stop an approaching storm. It had to be faced to be prepared for, was it just the foreshadowing of a darker inner cleansing? Were there those in charge with nefarious plans? What would happen to those of them that believed as she did? Her shoulders fell slightly and she looked out over the hill to the setting sun. It was beautiful like it always was in Skyrim, an orange-pink sky set against snowy mountains that faded into green fields sprinkled with pink and purple flowers. “Let’s do some alteration magic.” She said finally turning back to him. 

He looked at her for a second then slowly nodded, “Alright, alteration your favorite school of magic.”

“One of them, conjuration is fun too, but both require serious study. The pay off is power greater than destruction and, you will be happy to hear, you do not need to siphon energy from little bunnies.” She beamed at him.

He looked confused, “But I thought all magic requires energy?”

She nodded, “It does, but in varying quantities. You see with destruction magic you are trying to create something from nothing but we are not gods so we must use our own energy and the energy of other things to create it. However with alteration there is no creation, alteration is just altering or changing something that already exists.” She spread her fingers out on the ground and with a flash of green the ground began to shake a little and from the top of the hill a dirt bridge formed spanning from the peak to the plains beneath them. “I didn’t create that dirt, I merely moved it from the ground and formed it into a bridge. So I do not need to draw energy from anything. Now alteration does require some energy but very little, little enough where you can use your own. If you are desperately in need of energy because you have overdone it you may use the energy of something close by but never the object you are altering.”

He nodded, “Alright that makes sense, but if it doesn’t need a lot of energy why do you need to study it so much?”

She smiled at him, “Because in order to alter something you need to understand it first. In order to change something you must understand first how it is supposed to work or supposed to be. For example the spell I am going to teach you turns your skin into oak. Now, you would want to have a really good understanding of your own body to do this or the spell may fail or worse, may become permanent, or may go wrong and disfigure you.”

He froze for a few seconds and seemed to think this over, “Shouldn’t I become more proficient in magic before I attempt it? How did you learn it?”

She bit her lip, and shrugged, “Well the Thalmor taught me everything I know. Like I said magic is more intuitive for elves, but the way I learned was through experience. They would put us in a room by ourselves and cast it on us. Destruction spells we were zapped, burned and impaled with. Healed of course within ten minutes tops but enough to understand how it affects a person. Illusion they taught in a much more cunning fashion. You didn’t know when you were being tested, they’d do it in your every day life. They’d make you hear and see things until you thought you were crazy, nothing was off limits. One time I remember…” She paused, it was probably her worst experience in the school, she could remember it so clearly, “I remember my illusion test. There was a river I used to like to study by, one day I went to it and saw something curious across the river. When I inched closer I realized it was my dad.” She swallowed hard, “I missed him so much, I just ran to him without thought and nearly fell to my death.”

She could see the sympathy in his eyes, and then a question, “Wait, how? Your father was the illusion, did you slip over the rocks in the river?”

She shook her head, “No, the entire river and forest beyond it, and my father of course, were illusions. There was never a river there. It had been a cliff. I ran right off it. My instructor was really pissed when I did so, he thought I was a complete idiot to run towards someone I knew was dead, said he had been trying to go easy on me since he knew illusion was my worst school and thought it would be an easy tell. I mean I knew it couldn’t be real, but what if it was? Spirits roam around all the time, right? So it could have been true but I didn’t expect the river. I asked a few people about the river but they looked at me funny, said there had never been a river there. Only I could see it.”

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, his hand reached and grasped hers, “I missed my father too. I suppose the one comfort I have over you is that I will get to be with them sooner than you will.” He paused and then, “You can make illusion spells focus on one person?”

She nodded, “It requires complete mastery, and even then it is very tricky and faulty. I am alright at illusion, enough to get by but it isn’t my best subjects by any means.” She breathed in deeply, “Restoration they teach by healing you from the wounds they inflict on you, conjuration they force you onto a plane of oblivion and let you be attacked by any number of things they can summon. Alteration is the worst and most painful of them all. They cast on you and purposefully mess it up and disfigure and mutilate you. It is agonizing and they make you go around like that for days since it won’t kill you. Then they show you the proper way of doing it and make you work out how to put yourself back right. For example they cast the spell I’m about to teach you, on me, turning my skin to wood then told me if I wanted my skin back I’d better find a way of altering my body back to normal. It took a while. Alteration under the Thalmor is very brutal which is why not many master it choosing instead to master in Destruction and Illusion.”

His lips were set in a thin and firm line and his brows furrowed angrily, “They tortured you and as a child no less. All of that, it isn’t anything but torture under the guise of education. It’s no wonder so many Thalmor end up embittered and angry. Gods, that is disgusting! How can you possibly support that and be a part of it? How can you sit here and tell me how great the Thalmor are when they do that to their own kind? When they did that to you?”

She blinked and felt her heart flutter, her eyes fell and she looked away. Shame crept up on her and stole her breath away, “What choice did I have Varian? I had sacrificed everything I had—everyone I ever loved or who had loved me for them. There was nothing else left for me, had I ran they would have found and killed me and if they didn’t I’d be hiding in a sewer, impoverished and wasting away under the oppression of the Thalmor. No, I sacrificed my parents for them, I had to make it worth it.”

“So you threw your entire self into it and even now you cling to the mission statement in its purest form to try to redeem yourself and your people.” He said, finishing her thought for her. “Do you really think you can change them—save them—all by yourself?”

“I have to try, there is no other choice. This commitment is for life, there are only three choices for me Varian. First choice: I can become like them, I can let the sacrifices of those I love and the education I had harden and embitter me until all the pain I feel inside explodes. You think they do it out of joy, but that is only a by product, you don’t—can’t—understand. There is so much pain, it is overwhelming. It fills us, overflows within us. It threatens to destroy us and tortures us every day and to get any relief, even temporary relief, we spread our pain around as if by making others as tormented as we are it’ll somehow get the pain out of us. And it does for a little while, we’re not alone anymore, there is a relief. We have escaped just for a little bit, and we are happy, but it comes back, it always does. I can become like that. Second choice: I could run for it, run and hope to escape them. They’ll chase me, if and when they find me I will be tortured to death as all traitors are. Elves are resilient and live for a very long time Varian, I’d be tortured for hundreds of years. If I made it somehow, I’d live in hiding all my life as people suffer and die at the hands of my people and I will slowly watch nations fall one by one. And I will starve and die alone with nothing and no one. My last choice: I can stay in the Thalmor and work from within it, I can follow the mission statement as it reads, and do my best to do so kindly and save as many people from the cruel excesses of my people while also enlightening them how to live better. Now tell me which one would you choose?” 

Her eyes drifted back to him slowly, too many times they had this argument and she was growing tired of having to explain the same simple concepts to him. This wasn’t the legion where there was a nice, cozy, safe retirement. He did not understand, even after the Great War, that the Thalmor were a militarisitc-political cult. She looked at the dirt beneath her boots only to hear him release a slow breath, “I would choose the same as you, but I would not like it and I do not like it for you either.” He said gruffly, she felt his fingers brush against her cheek as he moved her hair out of her face, “You deserve better than that Gadheriel.”

She scoffed and pulled away, “Don’t be ridiculous, I am no different than them now. I can never go back to how I used to be, I can see how much you want me to, want me to be that person I was with Svari again but I can’t. Ever since..ever since the Stormcloaks I just can’t. Every time I look at a man, especially a nord, all I see are my attackers. I wonder just when they will be the ones to tie me up and abuse me, how far can a man be pushed until he turns on the one who was kind to him? I walk into a room and I size everyone up, I’m always on guard, tense and restless. I still have nightmares every night. I am still pathetically afraid. Yet my anger outweighs any fear I have, I did everything I could for men, I tried so hard to be fair and kind, to help them. I stopped those I could from going to Northwatch keep, I interfered in cases where there were children involved and talos worship found. I healed their wounds and treated their sicknesses. I taught their kids to read and write. And look what happened. Look what they did to me! They should pay for what they did to me! I don’t care if the men who tortured me are dead, the problem stems from their culture which they are ever so proud of! Oh yay lets celebrate being sadistic, cruel, rapists! They perpetuate the problem even if they don’t partake in the violence themselves! They condone it by doing nothing about it but celebrating it! I tried with them but they have shown me nothing but contempt and cruelty, they have shown that the Thalmor are right about them, and I hate them now, I loathe them completely.” She spat viciously, breathing hard and fast, “The elf you so desperately wish I could be again is long dead Varian, you should give up hope of her ever coming back. She’s the one that got captured and tortured, I won’t allow that to happen again.” She stood up and began walking away, turning back to say, “We’ll finish our lesson tomorrow, I’m tired now. Goodnight.”

She threw herself on her bedroll she had spread out in the tent hours before and stared at the side of the tent that faced where they had been sitting together. The orange glow of sunset creating the appearance of candle light upon aged parchment. A dull ache in her chest welled up as a deep loneliness set in. She felt forever marked by what they had done to her, stained and contaminated, they had twisted her into a disfigured person and scarred her. How could she ever go back to the elf that didn’t assume the worst of people the minute she saw them? Why would she want to when it led to disaster? She curled into herself, drawing her knees to her chest slightly. She felt like crying but no tears would come forth, she wasn’t tired at all how could she be when all she could think about were the face of her captors? She heard the flap of the tent move and soft foot falls a few feet from her as he laid down, she held her breath wondering if he would give her a reprieve but she wasn’t so lucky she knew that.

“You’re wrong you know, I watched you with Sissel today, that person isn’t dead. She just lingers beneath the skin where she is safe.” He paused and laid a hand on her arm cautiously, “You have nothing to fear from me.”

Her eyes burned but still no tears would come, she turned to face him, her fingers playing with her hair anxiously. “I don’t want to deal with any of it, I can’t. I don’t want to do it anymore but I have to.” She hated how her voice quaked as if on the brink, she swallowed against a burning ache in her throat. 

He searched her eyes and she held his gaze desperately searching for anything, any sign of relief from the horror, pain and terror those memories provoked within her. He slung his arm around her and pulled her to him gently, she tensed at first but then relaxed as he just held her against him, “We’ll figure it out, I promise you.” He whispered. 

“I’m trapped Varian, and I’ll die before there is ever hope of freedom. The closest I’ll ever get is when I am with you.” She whispered back her arms wrapping around his waist as he pressed her face into his chest. He was firm and warm, she breathed in his scent and her body slowly relaxed, she knew she shouldn’t be doing this with a man, knew what Elenwen would say but he was all she had. It was just the two of them out here, and he was the only one who had been there for her all this time, the only one who could understand. What did it matter who tried to put her back together if in the end she was irreparable? She choked on the emotions rising inside of her and tightened her hold on him.

She felt like such an ass at the moment. The man had just lost his men and been tossed around by a Daedric Prince, than intruded upon by another and had his soul invaded and intruded upon and yet here he was comforting her. She knew how much it wore on him, he had been so silent the last day, she could see the weariness and resignation in the way he held himself and in his eyes but she also knew that to give him comfort at the moment would not help. His pride was strong and she knew he partially blamed her still for it. Yet she couldn’t let go of him, he was anchoring her to a reality that wasn’t painful and for the life of her she couldn’t give that up even if it was the kindest thing to do for him. She was selfish in many ways, this was no different. They lay in silence for a while, both soaking in the others warmth and proximity, she eventually whispered, “When our people go to war again, and if we meet in the battlefield….don’t hold back. You must kill me if you can.”

He stiffened and held her tighter, “Don’t. Don’t ask that of me.” He growled.

“Why not? We are enemies aren’t we? We may be friends now but it can’t be like that forever and it certainly will never be anything more. You must, please promise me. It is the only way I will be free. Even if the Thalmor are to lose, what do you think will happen to us? We will be led to the execution block. You know this.” She muttered looking up at him.

“Why are you saying this now? Nothing has changed.” He looked away from her.

She snorted, “Look at us. Everything has changed. A month ago we barely touched each other and now look at us.” Her reply was met with silence for a long while until he spoke quietly, “If…If things were different?”

She tensed, she knew exactly what he was asking, a cold shiver raced down her spine, “You are no elf, it would not be proper—we wouldn’t get on. I do not…there is no—if things were different we’d have never met.” She stammered, he said nothing, letting her words hang in the air until they both drifted off to sleep. 

When she awoke the next morning she was alone in the tent and freezing. She shivered as she dressed herself as quick as possible wanting to get as many layers between her and the cold air as she could. When she stepped out of the tent to get breakfast she found most of their stuff had been packed up and Varian was standing by the horses waiting to go. “No breakfast?”

“No, we can eat in Whiterun, I want to get this over with. The sooner we get on with it the sooner it’ll be over. Like you said who knows what this Sam or whoever did to me.” He said almost sulking. She raised a brow, this was certainly never a side of the General she thought she’d ever see, she didn’t expect it from him at all. She took down and rolled up the tent and her bedroll as fast as she could and flung herself on top of her horse her stomach grumbling in protest. He started off at a fast trot, she kicked her horse into gear to catch up but stayed behind him to watch his rear. She knew last night had been a rough night for the both of them. They had both woken up to the other having nightmares, she had pleaded with the stormcloaks to stop and he had called his mens names. Even before they slept things had gone south fast, she expected this from him. He closed off the moment anything displeased him or upset him, he rather hide behind his shell of tough, strong Imperial General and let his anger rule his decisions than anything else. She knew, for she did the same. They were far too much alike in their maladaptive ways of coping.

They rode in silence once more, it was a challenge keeping up with him over the terrain that he seemed to know so well that one would think he had grown up here. They passed rivers, fields, meadows, forests and mountain sides and by the time noon rolled around they could finally see Whiterun in the distance. However instead of going the direct route the General seemed to be cutting across the fields, she frowned as she looked past him and realized he was not going towards Whiterun but behind it. He was heading back to where they had found his men. She kicked her horse into a gallop until she was right next to him and looked over at him, the man’s face was grim but determined, he was set in his plan forward. She tucked her hair behind her ear and called over, “Do you think this a wise decision Varian?”

He didn’t even bother looking at her instead he replied, “Whatever you may think otherwise it is something I must do. I must verify that the courier reached Bastillion and he has taken care of my men. It’s the least I can do since I wasn’t there with them like I should have been.” 

She had wondered when the issue of his men would rise back up in him, it seemed proximity to the heinous act itself was all that was needed to bring forth the grotesque horrifying memory. If she closed her eyes and remembered that afternoon she could still smell their rotting corpses. She had seen many horrible things during the war on both sides but that was definitely one of the worst. She didn’t know how people thought up such horrible things to do to one another but it was just another reason why mankind so desperately needed the guidance of the elves. She didn’t think this was the best idea, she feared it would lead to an entire breakdown, he would either finally confront it and grieve in his own way or he would completely shut off and cloak himself in his anger to protect and comfort himself. If he did that she knew he would blaze a trail back to Solitude and crack down on the Stormcloaks and their supporters with a cruel iron fist. Not that she had a problem with that but if Varian survived the wars he would have to live with what he had done and do so alone. 

They finally reached the small hill, she noted new boot prints on the ground, someone had been here recently, she pointed them out to Varian who breathed in and nodded. “Good it means someone came, lets hope it was friend and not foe.” They dismounted and climbed the hill quietly both lost in their own thoughts and feelings of dread and anticipation. When they reached the top both of them froze, she didn’t know what she had expected but surely not this. Where they had laid the three Imperial soldiers now lay three piles of charred remains and ash. The earth and stone around them was blackened and a faint whiff of burnt flesh lingered around them. And behind them an Imperial flag waved lazily in the air in honor of them. She was stunned at the carelessness of Bastillion, it was obvious he hadn’t wanted to expend resources and merely sent someone to do a half-assed cremation and erect a flag in memory. She could not imagine anyone being so disrespectful to the remains of another, especially one of their own kind. She raised her eyes from their charred corpses to the General standing only a few feet away from her. He was tense, his hands balled into fists and slightly shaking. She could see his neck was burning red, and he was scowling fiercely.

“Varian?” She said cautiously, “It’s okay, we can make this right.” She tried to soothe him but he merely growled and jerked around to face her, his own face twisting into a grotesque sneer.

“Make it right? MAKE IT RIGHT? They were burned to a crisp and left in the middle of a field in Skyrim, like they were nothing. Too insignificant to be treated with respect after they gave their lives for the Empire! This is how he handles the bodies of our fallen?! These were my men, I promised their loved ones to bring them home, now I can’t even bring their bodies home for their proper burial rites!” He screamed the veins in his neck popping out dangerously. 

She looked calmly between the burned bodies and the enraged General for a moment before silently pulling out three large empty vials. She gathered energy and sent fireballs at the bodies setting them on fire once more. Varian looked stunned for only a second before he was suddenly right in front of her, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He hissed.

“Take a breath, Varian, before you do something foolish.” She retorted raising her chin in defiance. She knew she was treading on thin ice, the General was much too fragile and volatile at the moment to trust him. Any little push would send him over the edge, she needed to stabilize him like any other dangerous proponent. She held up the vials for him to see, “We may not be able to take their bodies but we can take their ashes.” 

He nodded jerkily and stepped away, he turned his face away from her to watch the bodies of his fallen comrades burn to ash. She watched the different emotions flitting across his face. She desperately wished she could make things truly right but resurrecting the dead in their true form was beyond even her capabilities. When the fire finally burned out there was nothing distinguishable about the burnt lumps of flesh on the ground that led one to believe they were humans. She frowned, “I have to—”

“I know.” He whispered harshly, “Just do it gently. Please. They were good people, they had families.” He turned away and surprised her by walking to the farthest corner of the hill, keeping his back towards his dead men. She approached them and cooled the bodies off with a weak frost spell before she began to carefully break them apart. They fell apart easily, she gagged as she handled the crumbling human remains into ash and closed her eyes as a rush of compassion for the dead soldiers flooded through her. It was something she hadn’t felt in a while but no one deserved this. She slowly poured their ashes into the vials and corked them with colored bits of cloth so they’d be able to tell who was who. She hadn’t been able to fit all their remains in the vials, but she figured it would have to do. She laid out three small clothes and put the remaining ashes in them before trying the four corners together to make a small pouch, tying it off with some thin rope.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and pressed the vials into his chest, “These vials you can give back to the family, but I thought, maybe, since they were your men and I can see how much you cared for them, that it would be nice if you spread their ashes someplace.” She said as she handed him the three pouches as well. He looked down at them and nodded silently, she thought he would be more relieved now that it was taken care of but she could see he was fighting to keep the grief from breaking him in half. She handed him his pack and he carefully wrapped them in his clothes and tied the pack back up. 

He looked off to the east, glaring, “Ulfric and his men will pay for all the suffering they’ve caused.” He said fiercely, “I’ll make sure of it, he will die by my hand.” 

She could feel the rage emanating from him, rage that kept the guilt at bay, “After the Great War was won and the treaty signed, my regiment was split up and everyone was placed in different areas. Some stayed in the Imperial City, others went back to Summerset, and others came to Skyrim. We all were given different assignments, I never really see them now though I think about them a lot. I used to be able to keep track of them, when I became one of Elenwen’s favorites she’d allow me to assign my men where I wanted to. I always made sure to keep them in the safer provinces you know, but then overtime she saw that I was sympathetic to men, she thought that I may be a liability and took my commander title away. She gave my men to another commander and I never saw them again.”

“What’s your point?” He said dully, looking at the ground, the emotions that had kept his eyes so alive and expressive were fading and he was withdrawing into himself.

“My point is that I feel guilty too. Some of my men probably have died by now, or at least are living in more danger than need be. I know it’s not exactly the same, but you’re not the only one who has felt the weight of responsibility that comes with leading men into battle. The fear and cost of failure is far too much and in the end you’re left standing when you think it should have been you that died instead.” She said quietly stepping close to him, only a few inches separating them. 

He scoffed, “I am not wallowing in my self-pity like you Gadheriel, I plan to do something about it, I will have Ulfric’s head on a plate!” He roared, spittle flying, his chest heaving with his rapid deep breaths, he turned his back on her and crossed his arms over his chest staring out at the plains. She knew under that anger he was hurt, but she also knew men were far too prideful especially men in his position. She stepped even closer and wrapped her arms around his waist and abdomen tightly holding him from behind. She pressed herself against him, resting her face against his shoulder, she felt him stiffen and tightened her hold on him. 

She didn’t speak a word as he relaxed, nor did she make a sound when she felt his shoulders begin to quiver, she merely held onto him, reminding him he wasn’t alone. His breathing was erratic and gasping but soon he had it under his control and pulled the rest of himself together, when he pulled away from her she let go. It was odd how bereft she felt whenever they weren’t mashed together like some lovestruck teenagers. She didn’t dare ask if he was okay, too afraid it might hurt his pride which had to be fragile and vulnerable at the moment. Instead she followed behind him as he led the way to their horses at the bottom of the incline. 

They mounted their horses and set off towards Whiterun, she was glad to see the city again after everything that had happened. She wondered if Sam would still be at the inn, “Do you remember what Sam looked like?” She asked him.

He furrowed his brow and nodded, “Yes. For his sake he better not be in Whiterun or I’ll have his head.” He growled, his fists tightening on his reins.  
She sighed and chewed her lip, she was unsure how to comfort him, with her men it was easy. They had undergone the same training, been through the same things, they had gotten to know each other over many decades. There were certain things not done in elven society, but with mankind she had no idea. She glanced over at him, she had to do something, but was it time he needed? Did they have time in this little endeavor or would being distracted cost them their lives? Surely he didn’t break down like this in the middle of the battlefield, so why was this any different? 

“You won’t do anything of the sort, we will question him if he is there, make him explain himself but there will be no harm done unless he is connected to the Daedra or Stormcloaks. Understood? We don’t have time for you to wallow in your anger, you know very well that could get a person killed and I do not want to bury you just yet.” She said firmly looking at him. She didn’t know how he’d react to being chastised, a niggling of doubt nestled within her. Was she being too harsh? Hadn’t he been so gentle with her after her ordeal? Than again they hadn’t been traipsing around Skyrim with enemies all around them at the time either, could she have pulled herself together if she had had to? She doubted it and sighed, why couldn’t things just be easy for them, just once? 

He scowled at her, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth and pursed his lips, “Rest assured, I am perfectly capable of handling myself, you just watch out for yourself and we’ll be good.”

She balled her fists around the reins to her horse and nodded jerkily, “Sounds good to me.” She rode into the Whiterun stables moments later and dismounted, she tossed a few coins to the stable boy, “Feed, and wash her, check her hooves too will you? Same with the other.” 

They spent the next hour searching for Ysolda but no one seemed to know where she was, she thought about searching the country side but where would she start and why would the aspiring merchant need to leave the city? She turned to Varian, “You have any ideas? Cause I got none.” 

He shook his head, “No, we’ll just have to wait here.” He said, his eyes riveted on the bannered mare. 

She breathed in deeply, “Alright lets go to the inn and grab some food, I’m starving. And Sam might be there.” She glared at the inn and flung its doors open, “Do you see him?” She asked as her eyes slowly adjusted to the much dimmer light in the inn. 

“No. Not yet, but maybe tonight, we should stay the night even if Ysolda does show up.” He said, he approached the innkeeper and paid for both meals and a room before motioning to the table at the back of the inn. 

Her stomach growled and she followed closely behind, she could smell the glorious, delicious food in his hands and when she finally got to sit down she devoured it like she hadn’t eaten in days. She paused and looked up to find Varian staring at her with a look of amusement in his eyes, it warmed her to see it. When his feelings became so important to her, she didn’t know, probably around the same time he became a fixture in her life and a wanted one at that. She smiled as she blushed and sat up straight, she cleared her throat and stuck out her pinky as she sipped her tea properly. His lips twitched but before she could see his smile he looked down as he began to eat. “You know, I do miss the food of my people, but I have to say one can get used to the food here as well. Though you’d also get grotesquely fat.” 

“What kind of food do you fragile elves eat?” He asked curiously.

She beamed, at least he was coming out of his sulking anger a little bit, “Elves are not fragile, we just don’t look like we swallowed three other men. We are perfectly capable of kicking ass with or without magic, as you should know.” She huffed, but then answered, “Mostly vegetables, fruits, breads, sweets. Some of us are vegetarians, some of us eat fish and leaner meat. I should make you my favorite dish: Silver Crawdad surprise.” 

“Is the surprise poison?” He said dryly, she snorted.

“Well it’s hardly a surprise if you’re expecting it, so no not poison.” She smiled a little, where would she get silver crawdads from in this province? They had passed a Khajiit caravan on the way in, perhaps they brought some with them. While the cats weren’t allowed on Summerset they were allowed in the other Dominion lands, they just might have them if she was lucky. 

“Hm, eating snooty elven food, I’ll have to cross that off my bucket list.” 

“Your what list?” She said confused, who would need a list for a bucket? 

He looked at her for a second than smiled, “Sometimes it surprises me when you don’t know everything I admit, but alas I must make note of this moment. So far it’s the second time you didn’t know—”

“As I recall the first time wasn’t because I didn’t know something. It was cause I was wrong about something and admitted to it.” She scoffed folding her arms across her chest, she wasn’t truly offended, no she was pleased that he seemed to be distracted from his guilt.

“Ah, even better. So far we have a Thalmor has admitted they were wrong and a man was right, and now a Thalmor didn’t know something a man did. I wonder how many other firsts there will be?” He said in sarcastic wonder.

She choked on her drink at his words and coughed, tears sprouting in her eyes, she gasped and then laughed, “How many firsts?! What do you think this is?” He flushed suddenly at his words and then said, “The Thalmor have dirtier minds then those of mankind.”

“Are you writing a book of some sort?”

“Indeed, it’ll be great propaganda for the Imperials, all the reasons why the Thalmor are not as great and superior as they claim to be.” He sniped back playfully. 

She grinned, “If you need help I have inside—” She lowered her voice remembering they were not alone, nor should such a thing be spoken out loud or written down at all, it was far too risky. He looked at her sharply then his eyes roamed over the crowd, “I don’t think anyone was listening.” She said softly. 

He nodded and then, “A bucket list is in reference to the term ‘kick the bucket’ as in ‘he kicked the bucket after falling off a cliff’. A bucket list is merely a list of things you want to do or experience before you die.” 

She looked at him confused, “Wouldn’t it make more sense to just extend your life, instead of wasting time on lists and such?” She finished her soup and began to nibble on the bread and cheese on his plate. He looked affronted at first but then pushed his mostly empty platter over to her. 

“I didn’t realize breakfast was so vital to an elves life.” He said amused, “It would if not for cultural and biological differences. Nords hate magic, they distrust it and for them it’s often to difficult to bother with. The Imperial mages…well there are some truly brilliant ones, certainly in the past there have been but I fear we’ve lost our training, and I was beginning to wonder, after our lesson the other night, if perhaps the reason our mages can only do a few spells before being incapacitated for a few days is because they do not know to draw energy from the environment and are working solely on their own.” 

She nodded, “That would be a cause of it yes. It also matters how proficient one is, the better you are at something the more you understand it and the more you can shape it to fit your needs while not costing much. You can tailor it so to speak from it’s original. If they lack the knowledge of how to attain energy and are not proficient, which would go hand in hand with one another, than yes that is most definitely a reason. Many of us Thalmor wondered why we didn’t see a lot of mages on the battlefield, especially when the Imperials had long histories of fearsome mages. Abnur Tharn, Varien Aquilarius, Zurin Arctus.” 

He smiled, “You know, by teaching me you are ensuring an entire new group of well-trained mages in the Legion.” She smiled at his enthusiasm, it was as if someone had given a dying man air. She wondered if his situation really seemed that doomed to him and shook her head.

“I’d welcome the competition, I bet you I could take out ten of them in one go. How long do you think you’ll have to train them compared to my two hundred years and counting using and studying the arcane arts?” She raised her brow, “They’ll need a crash course, they will need to eat, drink and sleep it. They will not be able to do anything else but study and practice for years to hold their own against us and even then they’ll still be on the defensive against us.” She frowned as he seemed to deflate, she softened her voice, “I am not saying this to discourage you—though I should, I just do not want to watch my men..anyway, I’m trying to warn and inform you, that you might need to specialize how they train and what they learn.”

He furrowed his brows, “How so?”

“If you’re going to try to teach them all the schools and all there is to know, you will be doing your Empire a disservice. Maybe in the future when things are not up in the air and about to be chaotic, but now you need to be pragmatic. Sure your mages could learn, if they ate, slept and drank and did nothing else but they would only be basically trained in it, not anywhere near competent enough to take on an army of masters who’ve been dealing in magic for fifty to seven hundred and fifty years. However with the same dedication you could get them highly proficient in one skill.” She said as she sipped her tea.

A look of understanding dawned on him then, “I see, gather as many regiments as I can, teach them the basics of energy pulling and what not, but then each regiment will focus on something different. The mages would just have to move as one.” 

She nodded, “Exactly, but you didn’t hear that from me.” She spoke quietly her eyes shifting around the room. 

“Of course not, no one would believe a Thalmor willingly gave up information to a man to help save them from their own people.” He snorted.

She rolled her eyes, “Ye of little faith.” She chimed and then burped before she could stop herself. She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, “Not a word.” She whispered sharply, completely mortified. 

He smirked, “Oh no one would believe me if I told them such a prim and proper elf like yourself burped like a drunken nord.” 

She glared at him, “Elves do not act like drunken men, we are far more civilized than that.” She huffed, crossing her arms. 

“Of course, of course.” He said in a conciliatory tone, they lapsed into a comfortable silence before she sighed.

“I suppose we must go out searching for Ysolda again, where can she be? Do you think you might have done something to her?” She asked him.

He froze for a second than winced, “I hope not, I can’t imagine why I would but then again I never would have thought to steal a goat from a farmer and sell it to a giant either.” He stood, “Lets go, we should find her.”

They left the inn after locking their belongings in their room and began their search, they questioned the townsfolks asking when they had last seen Ysolda and if they had seen the General speaking to her a few days ago. No one seemed to have many answers but Carlotta was convinced she had seen the aspiring merchant that morning and that she had left the city on some sort of business. They left Whiterun shortly after thinking perhaps someone on the farms or in the brewery might have seen where she had gone. Gadheriel’s eyes fell upon the khajiit caravan and approached them, “You have any Silver Crawdads, cat?”

“This one carries goods from all over…” The khajiit purred as he shifted through his wares and pulled out four large crawdad, “These will cost you five hundred septims.” 

She glared at the cat but handed over the gold as he wrapped the crawdads in a cloth sack and sprinkled more salt over them, she snatched the bag and stormed off, “Outrageous prices. You know back in the Isles these things are everywhere, you can hardly go down the beach without one trying to snip at your feet.”

“Khajiit overprice things but it must be difficult to smuggle things in from Summerset especially with how strict border control is.” He mentioned.

She rolled her eyes, “Oh yeah strict enough to let Skooma through, honestly the Thalmor should send some elves down there to actually make it secure. We don’t take bribes after all.” She snipped. He remained quiet on the subject, there wasn’t much he could do to deny it when he knew that the border agents were often corrupt and could be bought. 

They searched every farm, and questioned every resident, some had claimed to see the merchant heading east. They followed the road east past the brewery and over the bridge, past the path up to the giant camp and to the now fallen towers that blocked the path. She approached the collapsed tower expecting to find nothing but rotting bandit corpses but when she got near it she could hear a womans voice talking softly. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Gadheriel decided to climb in to the collapsed tower. 

Sitting on what was once the wall she saw Ysolda bent over a small child dressed in the same gear as the bandits spreading some sort of medicinal ointment on the boys injuries. She looked up and fear washed over her face for a split second before she drew her dagger, “I won’t allow you to harm this child! He did nothing wrong!”

She frowned, “Why would I want to harm a child? We’ve been looking for you.” She said motioning to the General who was peering through the doorway. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. When the tower collapsed a month ago the Jarl put out a bounty to kill any bandits left alive, many men from the village came out here thinking it would be easy pickings to get some gold. He was able to hide for most of them but the last raid that came through here found him and left him for dead.” Ysolda said angrily, “Imagine killing a child for money! Even as a merchant I would never.—it’s disgusting.” 

“We’ve told the Jarls to stop the practice of bounties for these sort of reasons. It lends people to believe they are the law and can do as they please, and in return they get paid for it.” Varian shook his head, “Nords stuck in their damn traditions, you all will drive yourselves into extinction without the help of the elves.”

“Not all nords are like that, most of us just want to live in peace with our families.” Ysolda said softly.

“So did the boy, didn’t stop them from trying to kill him did it?” Varian countered sharply.

She stepped forward, “Not to interrupt this touching moment but if you’d allow me I could heal the boy better than your poor attempts at alchemy.” Ysolda threw her a dirty look at first then said, “Well I’ve been doing my best! I didn’t dare take him to Whiterun around the very people who want him dead, what was I supposed to do?”

“Have a healer from the temple accompany you here, they at least know what they’re doing and won’t harm the kid. Far be it for a nord to use common sense or any other form of basic intelligence.” She said in an acidic tone. She approached the young child and pulled away his armor which was crusted in blood. Sure enough a blade had pierced through his abdomen, it was a miracle he had survived this long under such care. She looked at Ysolda appraisingly, she wasn’t telling them everything. No way could the boy survive a wound like that without restoration magic being used on him, but it hardly mattered. She raised her hands but the boy screamed and Ysolda shoved her away from the child. 

“What’re you doing?!” Ysolda yelled as she checked the young boy over.

“I wasn’t able to do anything before that thing started screaming, why don’t you ask it?” She snapped, Varian hummed in warning from the doorway, she turned her head to him and threw him a dirty look. She was irritated with the woman, couldn’t she see how much damage she was doing to the child? All she wanted was to heal the blasted boy. 

“Don’t let the elf touch me, Papa said things with pointy ears will kill us!” He yelled as he clung to Ysolda. 

She gritted her teeth, damn no good nords. “I will not harm the boy but I need to be able to heal him, you aren’t helping him by letting him suffer!” She snapped at the merchant. She was only a few seconds from paralyzing both the woman and boy. They had been all over the place searching for this fool and questioning various nords, already she could feel a headache forming in the back of her eye, only to find her in a broken down tower tending incompetently and negligently to a young severely wounded child. 

“It’s alright Thorek, she’s here to help you, trust me there is no one more competent in magic than the elves. If she wanted to harm us she would have done so already, I promise.” Ysolda comforted the boy, she backed away a few feet but kept hold of his hand. 

As Gadheriel once more approached the young child she could see the fear and distrust in his eyes and sighed, already they had poisoned the mind of this child. She was incensed that they had done so to the point that the child rather be in agony and die than take the help of an elf. She summoned the golden threads of healing magic and pressed them into the boys abdomen. She watched as the boys face slowly relaxed and he watched as his stomach knit back together and the wound sealed itself. “He’ll need regeneration potion to replace the blood he lost and a healing potion for any internal bleeding I missed but he’ll make it.” She told Ysolda, “Now get the boy out of this ruin, no one in Whiterun is going to look twice at the child, especially once he’s in normal clothes.” 

Ysolda nodded and picked up the boy who wrapped himself around her. He looked back at Gadheriel with a curious look on his face, “You don’t have pointed ears like the other elves.” He said, “Is that why you’re not bad?”

She froze, she could hear Varian sucking in a breath and Ysolda was staring openly at her but she merely took a deep breath in, “Evil is not stored in ears child, it is stored in the heart and mind, of which I still have. Elves are like men, there are some bad ones and there are some good ones, but not all men, nor all elves, are bad.”

“Then why are the elves taking us away and invading our home?” He asked

“Well elves are really old so they remember a lot, and once upon a time men did the same to us, so we got angry and returned the favor, even though the nords of today aren’t the nords who harmed us, but some of my people can’t see past their hatred.” She explained quietly. 

The boy went quiet as he pondered this and she shifted her gaze to Ysolda, “Now that we’ve found you, we have some questions for you.” She said motioning to Varian.

Ysolda looked over at Varian and then piped up, “Do you have what you owe me now? I’ve been waiting all this time, but you owe me, it was my finest piece!”

“What was?” He asked dumbly, “What did you loan me?” 

“A wedding ring! If you’re not getting married you can give the ring back to me at least.” She huffed.

“A…wedding ring?” He asked, Gadheriel was frowning, had he gotten married? She had heard stories of nords getting drunk and settling down in their stupor but she hadn’t thought the General would be one of them, he wasn’t even a nord! She bit her lip as her heart twisted painfully in her chest and she looked away. Why wouldn’t he get married? He was everything good about mankind, strong, brave, honorable, funny, loyal. Who wouldn’t want to marry him? And why did she even care, it’s not like she was ever going to marry him, even if she wanted to she couldn’t. 

“Yes! You told me the sweet story about how you met and how in love you were with her. You said even being away from her for a few hours was painful, that you wanted to get back to her as soon as you could. I was looking forward to the wedding, you said you’d have the most interesting of guests there.” Ysolda said exasperated, as if she couldn’t believe how he was acting.

Another twinge resonated within her as a voice in her head wondered quietly what this woman had that she didn’t. She frowned and shook her head, folding her arms across her chest she chose to ignore it. It was ridiculous, she thought nothing more about the General than a friend, even if he did make her feel safe, even if he could make her smile, even if when she touched him in Dawnstar there had been a strange tingling and thrumming as she touched him. 

“Do you know what I did with the ring?” He asked, she could see how uncomfortable and alarmed he was,

“You said you were going to go give it to her, said that she was waiting for you back in Witchmist Grove where the two of you had met. Surely you couldn’t have forgotten your fiance this quickly?!” Ysolda exclaimed.

“No of course not, thank you. How much do I owe you?” He asked quietly pulling out his coin pouch.

“Two thousand septims, though it was more the fact that I trusted you than anything.” She said haughtily. Gadheriel sighed and watched as he handed over most of his money. She knew the Empire didn’t pay their officers that much, but she knew better than to pay for him, his pride was already fragile enough. Ysolda pocketed the money and climbed out of the Tower with the boy still clinging to her, Gadheriel listened to the young woman march away before trying to climb out of the tower herself. The door had been on the left side of the building but the tower had fallen on it’s right side. One had to jump down into the tower and climb back out but like with the trees she wasn’t strong enough to lifted herself. Instead the General clasped his hands together and grabbed her foot propelling her carefully up and out of the building before he pulled himself up. Once they were back on their feet they began making their way back to Whiterun in silence at first until the General broke it, “So Witchmist Grove, any idea where that is?”

“Yes, I know where it is, it’s in the middle of nowehere, a bit south from Windhelm actually.” She answered glancing at him, she had no right to be upset he had been drunk, he didn’t even remember, it wasn’t like he was actually in love with this woman but even if he was what did it matter, he wasn’t hers. The voice in her head spoke again, telling her she obviously wanted him to be, but she shook her head, no it was impossible, he wasn’t an elf. In every dream she ever had as a child she had grown up to be a healer like her father, married to a respected elf from a good family, maybe a carpenter or blacksmith, or tailor. She always thought tradesmen were the most interesting, they’d have three children and a decent sized home with a garden for her alchemy ingredients. Never in all her dreams did she think of a man, it just wasn’t done. 

He glanced at her, noticing how quiet she was being, “I don’t know who I met, there certainly wasn’t anyone I was interested in beforehand, so whoever it is somehow convinced a drunk me to propose to her. Who wants to get married after meeting someone for the first time?”

“Nords. That’s the whole point of their Amulet of Mara custom. If a person wears an Amulet of Mara they are advertising themselves, telling everyone they are looking to get married. Once someone says they’re interested they run off to be hitched immediately, apparently the philosophy behind it is that life in Skyrim is harsh and unforgiving, and one must jump at your chances when they come along.” She rolled her eyes, “Seems like a perfect disaster in my opinion, I would never marry someone I didn’t know.”

“Don’t the elves do arranged marriages though? How is that different?” He asked looking at her in confusion as they crossed the bridge. 

“Sometimes it isn’t but most of the time when it is done right it is actually the best course of action. Usually what happens is a family searches for a family equal or at least somewhat close to their own social footing with a child for their own to marry. Once found they do some background checks, they investigate their family history, genealogy, work, everything you can imagine. If everything is acceptable than they will send a notarized letter off to the family. The receiving family, often the male childs family, will run their own investigation, then they will give a soft acceptance. What that means is it’s an acceptance of the idea but not a guarantee, it basically means ‘we checked you out and you look okay’. They then schedule meetings, at first it’s just the adults but then soon the children meet and both sides get to interact with one another and watch to see if the children get along. This could last a few months to a year or two. If everything is alright after that a contract is written up, gone over by both parties and agreed on and when they come of age the children will marry. Of course sometimes the children are adult children in which case all they need is approval of their families to go ahead with the marriage and the whole grueling process is skipped.” She explained.

“Doesn’t that feel a bit cold and formal? It is more a business deal than a marriage. What if they don’t love each other?” He asked.

“Well, you can learn to love each other. Love is more a choice than anything, because love is more action than feelings. If it was only a feeling than any time you got into a heated argument and felt angry or disliked them people would say ‘well they’re aren’t in love anymore’ when really it’s just a disagreement. Marriage is a commitment to one another, you can build love within it but with my people it runs much deeper. We must breed imperfection out as much as possible, and solidify our unity with one another. We are connected with each other in much deeper ways than mankind and our society is much more highly structured. I find arranged marriages don’t have the same high risk of abuse, affairs and divorces that mankinds marriages do.” She said.

“I like the idea that marriage is to strengthen the entire race and nation but it would be very lonely if neither spouse loved the other.” He mentioned quietly, “What happens in cases like yours, where there is no family?”

“Sometimes it is lonely, there are certainly cases of that happening but it’s not as often as you’d think. Well orphans don’t need permission from their family, they just have to be approved by the others family, if both are orphans than they are free to do as they please but a bad match would bring them down to the bottom of the class ranks. An orphan has all the pressure of the family name riding on them alone, if say she met an orphan boy from another family who was a rank or two lower it could make them both fall to the last rung, which is ironic since had their families been alive they’d just be middle-class. Don’t ask me how that works, but without family marriage is a very risky business. What people fail to understand is that class is very important in our culture, it isn’t just how people look at you or treat you, but there are places you won’t be allowed in, certain things you can not do, food you can not partake in, there is a lot of discrimination based on class. It literally is the key to society, without it you are a pariah, a prisoner with not as many rights, doors will be locked to you and moving up the rank is nearly impossible outside of marriage and even then it would be your great great great grand children that would profit so long as they all married above them a rank. And of course on top of that you have the normal woes of being poor and without good social standing. So marriage is very, very important and arranged marriages even more so. It is a safety net to all involved even the children. They may not like their spouses but they’ll be first to get medical care if something were to happen.” She sighed and looked at him. “Men think our ways are stuffy and snooty, but there is a reason we do as we do. Perhaps if the class system was ever done away with arranged marriages would end but the class system will never go away, power is always held by the elite and they aren’t going to give it up to make themselves the equals of the beggars on the street. Especially with our history and religious beliefs. You can’t be perfect if you are wearing rags and begging on the streets now can you?”

He seemed to be thinking this over, she was surprised how interested he was in their culture though she couldn’t deny how much it pleased her, at least one man was genuinely interested and not just derisive and condescending of it. “We have arranged marriages as well, though not like yours. Our noble houses are the only ones that really care about it, and perhaps some of our wealthier citizens.”

“Doesn’t that lend itself to inbreeding though?” She asked her brows furrowing, it would have to. All the elves had arranged marriages, for the most part, so their pool of candidates were much larger but if only a select few families did it rather than the entire race, than the pool was much smaller.

“It does, yes, it also lends itself to oligarchy and all the corruption that comes with it.” He answered, “Surely your people have inbreeding as well?”

She nodded, “Certainly there are instances of inbreeding especially in the elite classes, but that is why it is acceptable for someone to marry another a rank or two below their own class. You see inbreeding leads to health problems with the children, and often time birth defects and deformities, imperfection another words. Which is much more looked down upon then marrying someone two ranks below you.” 

He hummed, “Perhaps there is something to be said of your class structure at least in that small regard. The Empire has tried to outlaw inbreeding for a long time but has vastly failed, mostly due to those enforcing it and creating such laws are also the ones perpetuating it.” 

“I’ll have to mark this day on the calendar, the day a man finally admitted to a Thalmor that they may be right about something.” She said echoing his mocking tone. He snorted and nudged her with his shoulder playfully. They stood in front of the city doors now, the guards looking between themselves and then back at the pair before them. She rolled her eyes, but smiled as the General held the door open for her, she walked through and turned to him, “Now I want you to know that I am perfectly capable of opening my own doors, but I shall allow you to do so for me so long as you realize that.”

He raised his brow and then commented, “Ah yes, the very same elf who can’t climb a tree can open a door much heavier than three trees combined, I forget.” 

She huffed as she began walking to the inn, unable to hide a small smile on her face, sometimes she forgot where she was or who she was when she was with him, she suspected he did the same and for once she didn’t care. “I’m going to go begin dinner. It needs four hours.” She ran off and purchased vegetables for a stock, tomatoes, onions and carrots before heading back to the inn and preparing the food. He followed behind her and watched in amusement.

“You’d make a great housewife.” He said lingering by the door for an easy escape, sure enough she glared at him and threw a shoe at his head.

The nerve of the man! “I am no housewife, what, you see a girl and all you think she is capable of is warming up food and using a broom? Well let me tell you something—” She began her rant before she turned to look at him only to realize he wasn’t there, she scowled at the door and made a mental note to lecture him when he got back. 

* * *

After escaping from the offended elf he wandered through the Inn, room by room searching for Sam, he had a vague recollection of what the breton looked like but no one matching his mental image of him resided in the inn at the moment. He was just about to draw a bath when a redguard ran up to him, “General Tullius?” The man asked, nodding in greeting.

“Yes, what is it citizen?” He asked gruffly, drawing himself up into his normal commanding posture. 

“Jarl Balgruuf has heard you were in Whiterun sir, he’d like to meet with you as soon as you can.” The man said respectfully, “That is all sir, good day.” He added before slipping away nervously. 

He groaned inwardly, he hardly wanted to deal with the overgrown children playing politicians that the nords liked to call Jarls at the moment. None of them seemed reasonable and none were willing to compromise. War took a lot of compromise and they all seemed to be digging their heels in and throwing temper tantrums but he knew he’d have to heed the summons. Perhaps the Jarl of Whiterun had come to see reason and decided to accept Imperial help, it would be a landfall victory, and a bloodless one, if they could secure Imperial command in the central city of Whiterun and quite possibly the most pivotal one. He knew it would be a difficult city to win over, from his brief stays before and this one as well, he noticed even the citizens were divided. Two of the most notable families, Greymane and Battle-borns, were once friends and now bitter enemies as they both chose different sides of the war and from his previous dealings with the Jarl community opinion of him mattered greatly to him. He was reticent to make a decision that might put him at odds with his people, he spent far too many nights drinking with his people instead of making the hard decisions that a leader must make for the welfare of his people. It was almost painfully embarrassing to watch the Jarl sit on the fence, leaving his people vulnerable to attack from opposition from either side because he was afraid someone might not like him afterward; instead he comforted himself with the knowledge that walls of stone surrounded the city as if it would keep out all the dangers of the world. Of all the Jarl’s he was the one that Tullius couldn’t find it in himself to respect, even the Jarl’s that supported Ulfric had made that decision based on their belief and what they thought was best for their people, they hadn’t worried about what people thought of them like some cowardly teenage girl.

He peered into the doorway to their room and said, “I’ve been summoned to Dragonsreach, I’ll be back soon, maybe a few hours depending on what the Balgruuf wants.” 

Gadheriel looked up from stirring the stew and frowned, “Is something wrong?” She asked sharply beginning to stand up. 

He shook his head, “I don’t know but don’t worry, Balgruuf isn’t Ulfric, I’ll be fine. He may have come around finally and seen the truth of the situation. We’ll see, just wanted to let you know.” 

She nodded, “Alright, when you get back though you must fill me in on the details like any other high class privileged socialite.” She smiled at him, he scoffed but just waved her off and left the inn. A pang in his chest resonated within him as he made his way through the different districts, that had seemed so domesticated, as if they were a married couple and he needed to go back to work for a bit. It had come so naturally, he shook his head in dismay. He didn’t know where his head had been the last few days. All he could think about was the families of his fallen men and Gwenyth. His whole life had been dedicated to his career but there was nothing left for him when he’d be forced to retire, nothing to go home to. He hadn’t really given it much thought when he was younger, it had seemed so far away that it didn’t matter to him. It was so close now though, it loomed on his horizons mocking him. He dodged every opportunity for time off, unlike his men who wanted nothing more than to get back to their loved ones, watching their reunions was a bittersweet affair. He was proud and happy that he could return them to their families generally unharmed, but when he looked out into the crowd there was no one for him. He was left alone, just like the day his father was supposed to return. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted children, he didn’t want his son or wife to go through what his mother and he had to nor did he want to give the Legion up. He desperately wanted to make his deceased father proud, to fill his shoes when he joined up. 

Then he had met Gwenyth and she had been so beautiful, she had drawn his eyes immediately. He was young when he met her, young and so very foolish. It was her beauty that made him swoon over her but he hadn’t known much about her. Perhaps if he had he would have realized how important children were to her or that she didn’t want to move around, in fact she liked the city she grew up in. She desperately wanted the pure domesticated life her parents had. It was something he couldn’t provide, even if he had wanted to, instead they had slept with one another hours after meeting and every time he was in the area he’d stop by. He’d take her out for the night and they’d end up back in her bed, until it became such a routine that he finally just asked her to marry him, he was happy with the arrangement. What had he known about true love? About dedication, and commitment? He thought they were perfect for one another, he never knew that their dreams were so very different. And it of course ended disastrously, he often wondered where Gwenyth was, how she was doing, if she ever met the man of her dreams. He hoped she did, but for so long there was no one for him. He went about his business like a machine, he truly cared for his people, they were the only family he had after all but he knew they weren’t truly his. He ignored the constant nagging feelings of wanting someone that was truly his own for so long, incapable of doing anything about it he had convinced himself it was how he truly felt. Until he met Gadheriel.

The elf was feisty, stubborn and absolutely infuriating but she was also dedicated, loyal, funny, beautiful, intelligent, and most beautiful of all was the softer side she only allowed him. She took care of him when he was sick, saved his life, healed him. When the sky was dark and the world still he felt the ghosts of her tender touches upon him, her reserved smiles played before him and her fiery temper burned him up inside. She was the flame and he was slowly realizing he was the moth, in every way possible. Drawn to her but knowing it will end terribly, especially after the cultural lesson she had given him today. Even if they survived the war, even if she reciprocated his feelings, even if she wanted to marry all he would be doing is sentencing her to exile, her people would disown her and she would live disgraced and impoverished because of him. How could he do something like that to her for his own selfish needs and wants? He shook his head, so many big if’s and nothing at the end of it all but misery. 

He pushed the doors to the palace open and slipped inside, there weren’t many people wandering around inside for which he was grateful. He approached the Jarl sitting on his wooden throne and tilted his head in the barest form of respect he could muster for the man. “Jarl Balgruuf, you wished to see me?”

“Yes, I was wondering what the Imperial Legion was doing in my city. I have not made my decision yet and thought this a bit presumptuous.” He called out in his dull, rolling nordic accent.

“The Imperial Legion isn’t in Whiterun. Certainly you’ve noticed by now that a new General has taken over command of our forces in Skyrim.” He said stiffly, straightening his back.

“Aye, so I have heard. I’ve also heard how this Bastillion burns through the country side and civilians without care or reason. He sees no difference between friend or enemy if they are between him and his target. He commandeers horses and other resources, puts entire families out of their homes to house his soldiers. And I have heard some…sordid reports of criminal misconduct. One such came from Falkreath, a family was thrown out of their homes except for their teenage daughter who was passed around like a party favor.” He growled.

His fists clenched at his side, he knew this would happen when Bastillion came. The man had no honor, he worked on rage not morals. He was a fine soldier only in he got the job done, but not in the destruction he left behind unnecessarily. He committed war crimes time and time again but the Empire looked away because they had gotten what they needed and no questions were asked or complaints entertained. He sighed and bowed his head, how could he possibly hope to gain Balgruuf’s support now? “I am aware of Bastillion’s ways, the elves….damaged…him in the Great War. Ever since he has carried a burning hatred that has grown into a destructive path he is walking. I did not wish to be relieved of duties but unfortunately I was injured and the Empire sent Bastillion.”

The Jarl’s eyes looked him over, “Injured you say? I don’t see a thing wrong with you. Certainly you are better now, is there no way to get that man out of Skyrim? Surely you can get your post back now.” 

He shook his head, “I have since healed but my failures to end the war as quickly as the Empire and Thalmor wishes me too has cast doubt on my competency and my ability to do the job. And so I have been tasked with a more delicate operation.”

Balgruuf fell silent for a while, rubbing his chin and humming, “Yes, there’s been reports that you’ve been seen with an elf—a Thalmor to be exact, are you saying that’s true?”

He nodded, “Yes, Gadheriel is my partner, temporarily. Hopefully we can help bring an end to this war, even if I can’t do so leading the charge.”

“What is this mission you speak of? Rumor has it you’ve been drinking and hanging around harrassing merchants. Doesn’t sound much of a mission to me.” The Jarl scowled.

“That is classified information unfortunately, but I assure you everything I do is necessary, none of which has harmed your people.” He said firmly, his eyes sharp on the Jarl.

“Perhaps, but tell me how can I trust you to do well by my people when your fellow is tormenting them?” The Jarl said waving his hand about.

“I suppose you can not do more than let my actions speak for me. I wish not to harm your people, only to unify Skyrim once more. This war has taken its toll on everyone, we all wish it to be over, one way or another, but I wish it to be over in the best possible way for the people. Not the Empire or Stormcloaks.” He responded, he was already growing tired of this nonsense. There was nothing more to say, it was obvious the Jarl was fishing for information yet would give nothing in return. 

“Is that why you’ve brought this Thalmor into my city? Her presence will undoubtedly stir up unpleasantries that already exist.” He said

“I have yet to see evidence of that, anyhow Gadheriel hardly wishes to spend time among your people and no one has been any wiser for it nor have there been any noise of discontent.” He explained.

“Is that so? Then tell me General, what do you think happened to Heimskr?” The Jarl said interlocking his fingers before him.

“That crazy priest of talos is dead?” He asked stunned, hadn’t he passed him on the way in? He thought of it for a bit but then realized that he hadn’t heard the man bellowing maniacally about Talos on his way up here. 

“Yes, he was found behind his house a few nights ago with fifty-seven stab wound in his chest and gut. No one in my city had ever shown him ill will, until you and your Thalmor friend showed up. Speaking of your friend…” The Jarl nodded with his head. 

When he turned around he saw Gadheriel storming up the stairs and past the long dining tables with a child on her hip. He raised his brow at her but she merely ignored him in favor of glaring at the Jarl, “Jarl Balgruuf I presume?” She said her free hand resting on her hip.

“Obviously, what can I do for you elf?” He called out, Tullius could see the others astounded faces, not often did you see a Thalmor carting around an imperial child on her hip. 

“You don’t need to do anything for me, but perhaps for the people you claim to be so fond of. You nords always go on about how you have each others back yet in every city I’ve been to there’s a rampant case of child abuse or some child wandering the streets homeless and starving and everyone just ignores it. Honestly if we left you to fend for yourselves you’d degrade into outright beasts and then eventually kill each other off, so perhaps we should.” Gadheriel hissed, her face red. 

“That is uncalled for elf, you better watch who you’re speaking to, this is still my city after all and you are vastly outnumbered.” Balgruuf threatened darkly, his eyes narrowing, “Now I won’t deny that we could do better for our people but resources are stretched thin with the war and people have barely enough to survive on as it is.”

“Your people don’t seem to be suffering all that much with their nice homes, food in their bellies and money to spend at a thriving inn and yet this child goes hungry. Perhaps you’d like to hear from the child herself.” Gadheriel said fiercely, Tullius looked at her torn between admiration of her fiery righteousness and exasperated that she would mostly likely damage any chances the Imperials had of winning over Balgruuf. 

Lucia slid to the ground and stepped forward a little bit, “Hello Jarl Balgruuf.” The girl said softly curtsying with respect, “I’ve been living in Whiterun for just a few months, it’s a nice city. At least it’s clean I mean there are worse places to call home.” Tullius snorted humorlessly, “My Mother died and my Aunt and Uncle took over the farm but didn’t want me so they kicked me out. I had no wheres to go so I came here hoping to find some place, maybe a small job at the inn in exchange for food, or maybe be a maid for one of the noble families but no one wanted me here either. You didn’t even look my way or acknowledge me when I gave you flowers a few weeks ago. I’m so hungry and cold.” She said looking back at Gadheriel nervously. 

Jarl Balgruuf’s jaw tightened and he looked away from the girl, “Times are difficult for everyone child, things are not so simple. I am sorry for your circumstances but there is not much I can do. I can only implore people to look upon you kindly but I can not force them to take you in.” 

“All pretty little excuses to do nothing but sit on your false throne and soak up the admiration of your people while you pretend to be a martyr.” Gadheriel hissed, she took Lucia’s hand, “I had heard you were one of the kinder, more rational and fair Jarl’s in Skyrim, I had hoped you would make right what is so obviously wrong, at least in your city, but of course you nords love to prove me wrong. Come Lucia, I’ll make sure you’re alright.” Lucia bowed her head and nodded, Tullius could see the sadness in the girls eyes and his heart squeezed, how many of his own people were scattered around Skyrim, alone and starving like Lucia? He watched as Gadheriel marched out of Dragonsreach with Lucia, throwing one last dirty look at the Jarl before slipping out the door. He let out a breath, at least she hadn’t attacked anyone this time.

He turned back to Balgruuf unsurprised at the hard look on the man’s face, “I think it’s best if you leave now General, we have nothing more to talk about until you decide to choose your friends better.”

“You’re going to put your people in jeopardy because an elf bruised your ego?” He said sharply, crossing his arms. 

“My people are safe within these walls, and we have the best trained guards in Skyrim, I assure you we will be fine. Ulfric still needs more time to launch an attack, much more time. Do not speak to me of idle threats and imagined danger. Leave, now.” Balgruuf said gruffly waving him off. 

He sighed and made his way back to the inn grumbling inwardly the entire time, damn Jarls, damn elf, damn kids, damn stormcloaks, damn war. He sat at the bar and had a drink to soothe his nerves before heading into their room. When he entered the scent of the cooking food warmed him, it smelled absolutely delicious and his stomach grumbled loudly. Gadheriel was peering into the pot and in the corner swinging her legs as she sat on the chair was Lucia. He nodded, “Well that went fantastic, you know perhaps if you curved your anger you may have gotten him to agree to do something. Honey attracts more flies than vinegar and all.”

“Who cares if the fly is dead?” She snapped, turning her burning eyes up at him, he quirked his lips, typical Thalmor response. 

“You can’t just go around killing everyone who displeases you and you know that.” He said gently sitting on the bed next to her.

“Watch me.” She said simply, “You’d be surprised what a Thalmor is capable of, you have your own code of conduct and the Thalmor have their own and I think we both know that the Thalmor can do as they wish and no one will do a damn thing about it,” She paused, “Well the Stormcloaks will just add it to their list of wrongs done to them. They do like to feel sorry for themselves.”

He sighed, “Promise me, you won’t go kill him, we don’t want to be driven out of every hold. I’ve already lost my chance at convincing Balgruuf to let us come in to help them.” 

“I don’t see why you don’t just take the hold, you’re by far more competent than any of these damn nords.” She said exasperated, “Sometimes politics aren’t as useful as a sword in the gut.” 

He snorted, “You’re starting to sound like a nord.” He accused her, “Unfortunately our code of conduct, rules, and the lot don’t allow us to do as we please.”

“And if the Stormcloaks win because you all are too busy playing the nice guys?” She said turning to him, “What then Varian? Will it have been worth it in the end? Do you think Ulfric will be a wise and kind ruler or a cruel and power hungry one?”

He frowned and carded his fingers through his hair, “I won’t let it get that far, if we must interfere we will but so far there is no need to go to that level. We must wait and see. Balgruuf is right about one thing Ulfric doesn’t have the force necessary to take Whiterun.”

“Maybe you’re right, I don’t know.” Her eyes shifted to Lucia who was staring at them before looking back at him, “What’re we going to do with her? We can’t just let her go back to living on the streets.” 

“Well Heimskr isn’t using his home anymore.” He said quietly looking at her with hard eyes.

She looked back at him completely unfazed by the accusation before a small smile grew on her lips, “Yes, that is true. She can live there, after all it’s not like that crazy old man had any family. What do you think Lucia?” 

“I get my own home? Really?! Will you live there with me and be my mom?” She asked brightly.

Gadheriel frowned, “No child, I can not be your mother, you’d be living there alone I am afraid but it will get you off the streets and into a safe, warm home. It’s already stocked up with food, but if you run out the innkeeper says she wouldn’t mind letting you do a few chores for her in return for some gold.” 

Lucia tried to not look disappointed but it was obvious to both of them she was. She nodded, “Alright thank you! How am I gonna get into my home?”

Gadheriel went through her pack and came out with a silver key, “Here, the key to the house, now go off and check it out. Good luck.” She said softly to the girl as she padded forward and grabbed the key. Lucia wrapped her arms around Gadheriel tightly.

“Thank you, miss. I don’t care what anyone says, elves aren’t evil.” She said happily before running out of the inn, leaving the two of them alone. 

Gadheriel sat on the bed and sighed frowning, he looked at her curiously, “You don’t seem very happy for someone who just took a child off the streets.” He observed.

“She’s still alone, with no one to love her or look out for her. The world is going to eat her alive.” Gadheriel said quietly as she stirred the food once more, taking a little teaspoon and sipping it. 

He realized then why she became such a fierce mother hen when it came to children, he should have seen it sooner but so much had been going on. Of course it was obvious now, Gadheriel had been orphaned and left to fend for herself locked away in a Thalmor school being tortured and deprived of love but at least she had memories of love, some children didn’t have that. He knew then that the elf saw herself in those children, and felt even sorrier for them then she did for herself. “Perhaps when you’re days in the Thalmor are over, or at least relaxed you should open an orphanage.”

“Oh yeah that won’t be depressing at all, surround myself with crying, lonely children who miss their parents as much as I still do.” She replied wryly, tapping the spoon against the side of the pot. 

He smiled, “You do have a way of taking even the most innocent of statements and picking it apart until you strip it of anything good.” 

“It’s a talent, what can I say?” She smirked as she looked at him, “Now grab some bowls and spoons, the food is done.” He did as she asked and waited patiently as she dishes out the stew. It looked light and smelled enticing, and as he began to eat it he realized how good it tasted, something about the way the silver crawdads tasted gave the stew its own tang and he had to force himself not to shovel it down. She ate it slowly, savoring the rare times she was able to make a dish from home. 

“Alright, so you elves know how to cook, I’ll give you that. Not my normal fair but it is very good.” He said as he munched down.

Her nose scrunched up, and she shook her head, “I need to teach you some table manners, didn’t anyone tell you talking with your mouth full is absolutely disgusting.” She huffed but a smile played on her lips nonetheless. When they were finished he cleaned up as she got in a bath. He could hear her splashing around on the other side of the partition and had to keep himself from peeking at her. He wouldn’t do that to her, she had been violated enough. He shook his head and got himself undressed and sponge bathed from a bucket before getting in his pajamas and slipping into bed. The day had been long and he was utterly exhausted. Tomorrow they would make their way to Witchmist Grove and meet this lady he was supposed to marry. The bed dipped a few minutes later as Gadheriel slipped in beside him. They had stopped bothering looking for rooms with two beds, each finding comfort in sleeping in the others arms.

He tossed the covers over them and rolled on his side pulling the blankets with him, he was just beginning to drift off when he felt the blankets being tugged insistently. He tugged them back as they slid away from him and tried to roll farther away but then suddenly the blankets were ripped away from him viciously. He rolled over to face her, she was glaring at him, “Hey! I need some of those blankets too you know!” He huffed as he threw the blankets over him again.

“Well try not to hog them then!” She snapped.

Once more he rolled away from her, and the blankets were tugged again, he sighed in annoyance and turned around, she yanked the blankets off of him leaving him shivering in the cold room. “What’re you doing? Give me some of them!” He grabbed the blankets and tried to pull but she pulled right back. He couldn’t believe she was playing tug o’ war with the blankets. It was freezing. Back and forth they went until suddenly she launched herself at him and shoved him off the bed and took the blankets for herself. He lay on the floor annoyed, well if thats how she wanted to be so be it! He dragged himself to the foot of the bed and grabbed her ankle pulling her hard and fast out of the bed before throwing himself down on top of it. 

“Varian!” She yelped, “Quit it! You’re the one hogging the blankets!” She grabbed her pillow and began beating him over the head with it, “Didn’t anyone teach you how to share?!”

“Ah! Quit it you deranged elf!” He said, he reached out and grabbed the pillow yanking it so hard that she didn’t have time to let go and ended up being pulled on top of him. 

“Well maybe if you weren’t so completely selfish—elves get cold too!” She hissed as she looked down at him.

Both of them were out of breath after their battle for the blankets but at least they were warm now. She paused to catch her breath as Varian threw the blankets over them, his one arm wrapping around her waist pressing their bodies more firmly together. She felt her breathing hitch and she looked down into his eyes, he stroked her hair out of her face and she looked at him sharply.

“What’re you doing Varian?” She asked softly. 

He looked up at her, taking in her beauty, “I don’t know, you tell me.” He searched her eyes, “Am I just imagining things?”

“You are imagining things that could never happen, never be, even if we wanted them to be.” She breathed out grabbing his hand to hold it in her own.

“Do you want them to be real? I need to know, even if it can never be.” He asked nervously, he could feel his heart pounding in his throat, his eyes riveted on hers. 

She was quiet for a while, driving his anxiety through the roof before breathing in sharply, “I don’t know. When I was little I always imagined me settling down with another elf in Summerset and watching our kids play in the fields.” She swallowed and said in a quiet voice, “As much as you may want to, you can’t give that to me.”

He felt his heart constrict but nodded, he knew the chances of her answering any differently were slim to none, knew that she couldn’t be with him. Hell he didn’t even know if he was ready to commit, no. He wasn’t near ready, how could they when they didn’t even know if they’d survive the next few years? He wasn’t looking for a commitment just an acknowledgment that they both felt the same. “I know we can never be together,” he whispered, “But regardless of that, tell me, do you feel what I feel?”

She bit her lip and cautiously replied, “I don’t know, how do you feel?”

He searched for the words to describe how she made him feel, how she drove him up the wall and infuriated him, she absolutely drove him crazy in every way. Her fiery temperament, stubbornness, dedication, loyalty, softness, her sharp edges and sense of humor. The way the sun caressed her face as she smiled, the way she held herself so regally on a horse, the way everything was a competition to her. He adored the way she curled up as she slept, the way her head tilted up after she insulted someone. He admired how protective she was with children, whom seemed to flock to her regardless of what they had been told about elves. He loved watching her play with her hair, or when she fixed his armor every morning. The air around them lightened and warmed whenever she laughed, the world seemed at peace to him when she was next to him and cast a smile his way. Even when they argued she seemed to be the only person in the world to him. Divines, he had left Solitude, left his duties, to follow this elf, he wouldn’t have done that for one of his own. How could he possibly put that all into words to tell her what it meant to him? “How do I feel about you?” He asked quietly, as he pulled his hand out of her grasp and to her cheek. He gently stroked his thumb over it and then leaned forward, his lips ensnaring hers in a tender kiss, his hand sliding into her hair and to the back of her head, cupping it gently. 

When he pulled away from her, he was breathless and his heart was beating rapidly, the feel of her soft lips upon his own made him want more. Instead he gazed into her shocked eyes that were searching his. “Varian…” She said softly, her fingers sliding over her own lips, “I can’t…I’m sorry, we can’t be like this. No matter what you or I want.”

“You do feel the same then.” He commented calmly. 

“Maybe, I don’t know. I hadn’t considered it. I don’t really fool around when I’m on a mission.” She huffed as if put upon and then looked down. He could see the torn look in her eyes. He hadn’t wished to put her in such distress, he slid his hands over hers and kissed her fingers gently, she breathed in sharply. 

“I’m sorry, let’s just forget it then.” He said quietly, he could feel his heart dropping but he knew pressing the matter would only make things worse. She was right, he shouldn’t be acting this way on the job, and even if they weren’t on the job, she was a flame and he was a moth, it would not end well for him. He would lose himself in her and she would devour him whole. 

She nodded but still frowned, she snuggled into him and shifted until she was comfortable before she closed her eyes, but he could not sleep just yet. His mind kept turning and his heart kept twisting. Yet he found peace in watching her fall asleep, her face relaxed and the tenseness of the day faded from her body, he stroked her hair carefully. He wondered if she’d have nightmares again after he had kissed her, he prayed to the divines she didn’t, it was bad enough she had them nearly every night but over the last week he noted only three. He looked at her gently and felt his heart twist as the memory of that day washed over him again. Divines, had he really thought to leave her? He closed his eyes in shame, but knew he was thinking as a proper General and not a lovestruck, lonely soldier trailing after a fiercely beautiful, unattainable elf. Still the thought sickened him, it wasn’t any better that the only reason he had saved her was to use her. He nearly snorted at his foolishness and arrogance, as if the Thalmor would ever make it that easy, especially this one. He was just relieved he had made the right choice in the end. Knowing what he did now he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he had chosen to leave her to die. The very thought made him nauseas. He stroked her hair once more before his eyes felt heavy and he too drifted off to sleep. 


	9. Chapter 9: Ivarstead, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy this :)
> 
> I still don't own Bethesda, anything you recognize is their creation. There are a few lines from the game in here, thats theirs too.

She was happy to be on the road again, it seemed whenever they were complacent and still something came up to derail them from their goal, or at least hers. They had risen early, had breakfast, packed their bags, saddled their horses and began their long trek to Witchmist Grove. The towers still blocked their path but luckily she knew another way around that the General didn’t seem to be aware of. She had always wondered why he had chosen to go through Stormcloak territory on their trek back to Solitude rather than take the shortcut through the valley that connected Ivarstead with Helgen. She led them up the winding path to Riverwood her favorite little village in Skyrim, Varian was only a few feet behind her for which she was grateful. Every so often her fingers would find their way to her lips and all she could think about was how his lips had felt against hers. She had been surprised when he had kissed her, it had stolen her breath away from her. It had been gentle and sweet, almost like he had been asking permission, even now thinking about it she smiled a little. It could be nothing more than what it already was, he couldn’t provide what she wanted. She couldn’t bring him back to the Isles and show him all her favorite places, she wouldn’t be able to ever return home. She’d be found guilty of treason, shunned by her society, a disgrace to her family. Her father always warned her against mingling with those outside of her race. He hadn’t been a racist, after all he had openly disagreed with the Thalmor at least within the family, but he simply believed that the races should stick with their own and leave each other be. Hadn’t she already done enough to her parents without bringing shame upon them as well?

She wanted desperately for that dream she held so dear to come true, but it never could with him. She’d be banished to a city of men to raise half-breed children. It wasn’t proper, it wasn’t something a respectable high elf would do. It was bad enough she had been contaminated and tainted by the Stormcloaks, they had taken her purity and destroyed many of her options but to choose to be with a man was even worse. They’d never work, and that wasn’t even taking into account their political affiliations and the coming war. What were they to do really? She could throw her entire life away for him while he got everything he wanted, they’d fight on opposite sides of the war, killing their lovers people and somehow both survive only to in the end be banished from her homeland, cast out, charged with treason and hunted down, they’d go on the run to the Imperial City where she would settle down on a pitiful soldiers pay and amount to absolutely nothing, wearing rags and raising half-breeds in rags? None of that sounded very attractive to her, but every time she looked at him her heart seemed to soften, she had to fight a smile off her lips and she wanted to feel his lips upon hers once more. It was absolutely frustrating and downright annoying. Sometimes she wished they hadn’t met at all, that someone else had rescued her, it would be far easier than this constant war within her. 

She trotted over the bridge into Riverwood and greeted folks as they passed by, she could feel his eyes upon her but she didn’t dare look at him not even after they left the little town. He trotted up beside her as they passed the guardian stones, “So there is a nord village who actually like you. I was beginning to wonder.” He said smirking a little.

She narrowed her eyes at him, “I will have you know that the people of Solitude are relatively alright with me as well, as are the people of Morthal. Apparently there are small pockets in Skyrim filled with somewhat intelligent men. It was a surprise to me as well.” She said snootily. 

He snorted, “Oh yeah, the people of Solitude are real fond of you, that couldn’t have anything to do with the favors you did all of them. Which is basically bribery of a kind, so I don’t think that actually counts.” 

“But they still like me now, so it hardly matters how they came to like me, that wasn’t part of the original requirements, you simply said a town that liked me.” She sniffed, smiling a little. Oh this was a dangerous game, she was playing with fire and it was only a matter of time before she got burned. She knew that better than most and yet she continued to light the matches. 

“Ah, I see, my mistake. So where is this secret pathway that only you seem to know about, oh great and mighty elf?” He said.

She smirked, “If you still don’t believe me than why are you following me? Seems foolish.” 

“It’s my job, don’t you remember? Plus I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see a Thalmor finding out they are wrong firsthand.” 

“You seem so confident for someone who is going to be eating their feet soon enough, General.” She said grinning now. 

“Oh I doubt it. I have been all over Skyrim, you can not tell me that a path exists that I have yet to find.” 

“What if it was made after your great adventure into the wilds of Skyrim, hm? Never thought of that did you? Or maybe you haven’t scoured every square inch of this hostile land?” She mocked. 

“Bah. Ridiculous. Lets see it then.” He said, “The Thalmor rarely leave their little castle, and you want me to believe they know more about this land than I do?”

She smiled, “We don’t have to travel the lands to know its secrets my dear General. Come, seeing is believing, but try to be quiet we must go by Orphan’s drop, a nasty hagraven lives there.” She didn’t know what they’d find in Witchmist Grove, though the name itself was sort of telling, was it a witch? Did she put a curse or spell on an already drunk out of his mind Varian? She didn’t know but she knew one thing, the woman would tell them what they wanted to know one way or another. She was just glad that the towers were down, it had saved them from having to cut so close to Windhelm. She knew they’d have to cut by Ivarstead and by where she had been taken but at least it wouldn’t be near Windhelm and Varian had assured her they had driven off the Stormcloaks when they had rescued her. It still gave her some anxiety but she tried not to think about it, instead choosing to think of it as closer to Ivarstead. She goaded her horse into a trot and called back, “Well lets see if you can keep up.” 

“I thought we had to be quiet—” He said before groaning and kicking his horse into a higher gear. She laughed out loud, “Well we’ll see if we can out run her if not we can kill her. The locals will be happy about that.” She called back. He snorted and shook his head as he did his best to keep up, he had always loved riding a horse at full speed, he had originally enlisted in the cavalry but things hadn’t worked out quite like that in the end. 

As they raced across the hills and plains, dodging in and out of trees, boulders and shrubs she breathed in deeply, she hadn’t felt so young in a long time. She could remember riding her horse across the beautiful fields of Summerset with her father, he had taken her to the stables in Alinor to pick out a horse. She could remember going down the line with the stablemaster and her father, they stopped at each horse and she’d listen to the man list the pedigree of the horse and the positive and negatives of each one. They reached the end of the line and she had been asked which one she wanted, but she had noticed movement in the last stall, one they hadn’t stopped at. She had walked over and peered up at the horse, it was a brown and white raggedy-looking paint horse. It was nothing like the sleek and shiny pristine purebred horses in the stable that had been polished to perfection but she had fallen in love with the horse instantly. She could remember the look on her fathers face when she had told him she wanted that horse, the stablemaster had been most offended and in the end the raggedy paint horse had cost much more than any of the other purebreds in the stable but every time she went out with her father her little paint horse outran even the finest of her fathers horses. She had always believed it was grateful to be rescued and worked really hard for her in return. It used to drive her father crazy. She smiled a little even as an ache crept in, she had said it so many times but she missed her father horribly. 

She hadn’t thought of him in years but this last year had been terrible and he was on her mind a lot. She could hear distant cries and screams of anger as they raced past orphan drop, she knew they had awoken the hagraven and her servants but she hardly cared. Soon enough they were long past it and she cantered lazily into the valley that she knew led to Ivarstead, she turned back and grinned victoriously. Varian, on the other hand, was scowling at her. He caught up to her and grumbled, “Yeah alright, so you win this one, but this isn’t over yet, elf.” 

She just smiled, “You ride very well for an old man you know.” She commented, her eyes shifted along the hills and rocks searching for any sign of a trap. She wouldn’t be taken by surprise again, and the closer she got to Ivarstead the greater the feeling of dread and foreboding that enveloped her. 

“We’re almost there.” Varian said nodding ahead, in the distance she could see the small farm town. She had been looking at it when she was attacked last time, thinking of milking cows and feeding pigs. Her heart quickened its pace and she felt like she couldn’t draw deep breaths the closer they got. She stopped her horse as her hands began to tremble. She clenched them into fists and looked down at the snow. There had been snow that day, she had slipped and fallen in it. It had been cold against her naked body, cold except when they laid atop her pressing their bodies against hers, into hers. Their hot breath ghosting over her neck, their sweat dripping onto her breasts. Nauseas swept over her, she clenched her eyes shut, her arms wrapped around herself, she jerked violently when a hand came to rest on her shoulder. Her eyes shot open and she screamed, “No!” She turned to her side and let loose a ball of fire that exploded close to her, much too close. The explosion flung her off her horse and dropped her to the ground a few feet away. She could see the falling body of a man hit the ground a dozen feet away from her own, but it was the strangest thing, he wasn’t wearing the blue fur uniforms of the Stormcloaks, rather the red and gold of the imperials. Horses screamed, she could hear them even over the ringing in her ears, red streaks decorated the white snow, yes of course it did they had cut her up, stabbed her, defiled her. 

They’d come back any moment, they’d come back for her, and she couldn’t escape. She was going to die out there, alone and no one would ever know. Elenwen wouldn’t even notice and if she ever did there would be no search party, and there was no one to notify at home. No, she had led the Thalmor to her daddy, to the only one who would care to save her. She had watched as they shoved him to his knees and killed him in front of her. Had she screamed when he died? Would she scream when she died? The man in the imperial uniform was moving, he was rolling over slowly and getting up. She could tell she had burned his arm and part of his neck and shoulder, he was grimacing in pain but he looked familiar. Why did he look familiar? He wasn’t a nord, wasn’t a stormcloak, she peered, terrified, at him. She was tied up, crying and in pain, a man—this man—stooped over her. He had untied her, had saved her. He had saved her, the Stormcloaks dead, what had happened next? She closed her eyes and covered her ears, her mind was spinning as snippets came back and reality slowly asserted itself around her. He had saved her, and now he had feelings for her, Varian. It was Varian. He had touched her and she had sent an explosion at him. 

She opened her eyes and found him a few feet away from her, he was calling her name, “Gadheriel?” She breathed in deeply, her hands were still trembling. He reached her and she cried out, “I’m sorry I just thought—I thought you were them. We’re so close to where I—where they took me.” 

He grabbed her hand with his good one and looked at her, “Heal me.” He hissed in pain, breathing sharply. She nodded shakily and did her best to concentrate on her restoration magic, she barely did a passable job, it was a good thing she had strapped her pack to her back, she handed him a potion to finish up the job and he sighed with relief. “This has to stop. Every night you whimper and wake up screaming, you can’t go anywhere without being tense and staking out the situation, you are jumpy and paranoid. You nearly killed me this time. When will you realize that you are not in danger anymore?”

“When you do your job and kill Ulfric Stormcloak and end this ridiculous rebellion!” She snapped, tears in her eyes, “You expect me to just get over it? Forget it ever happened? You have no idea—no idea!” 

“No, and I never could even if I tried but what I do know is that this won’t go away, ever. Do you want to carry on like this for the rest of your life?” He asked peering into her eyes.

“Of course I don’t, how could you ask that of me? But I can’t just forget it either, I don’t know what to do Varian, I’ve never been like this before. I’m used to being the fearsome Thalmor Commander, I used to have pride in that. Now I can’t even walk into a room of people without my heart pounding in fear. Worried that someone will hurt me again. I was never afraid, not like this, before. It never stopped me before, never. Look what they’ve done to me Varian, they’ve made me useless, pathetic, weak. And I can’t seem to fix it. When I pretend I am who I was, this respectable, upstanding, Thalmor commander, I feel secure just for a little while but then I remember who I really am, what I really am. I’m filth and nothing more. And I just can’t get over that.” She said letting it all loose at once, “I’ll never be who I was, who I want to be again and my dreams of being on Summerset with a husband watching our purebred children run among the flowers and grass, will never be. Everything that I was, and hoped for is gone. There is nothing left.” 

She shuddered and swallowed, she hadn’t expected such a reaction, all morning she had been dreading going back to Ivarstead, she had tried to push it down and ignore it but obviously that hadn’t worked. She didn’t know what to do anymore, she just wanted it to stop. He grabbed her by the arms and she tensed, she didn’t know why but she still expected to feel a fist to fall upon her or knife to cut into her. She knew the General would never hurt her like that, never but she couldn’t stop it. She cringed away from him and she heard him give a exasperated sigh then suddenly she was being pulled forward and enveloped in strong arms. She breathed in shakily against his chest as a gentle hand carded through her hair. She wanted his comfort but she knew she didn’t deserve it, knew she didn’t deserve to be held like she meant something. “You shouldn’t touch me, if they see you you’ll be contaminated too.” She said brokenly. 

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not an elf remember?” He whispered in her ear, she blinked back grateful tears and wrapped her arms around him tightly. She spent the next few minutes resting in his strong embrace, letting her heart slow and her mind calm before he pulled away, “There is no avoiding this, not any longer. We have to go through here, maybe facing it will help you in the end. That’s what they say right? Face your fears.”

She knew there was no choice but she didn’t have to like it, she breathed in deeply and nodded, “Alright, alright…” She allowed him to help her up and when she turned to look at their horses she winced. Varian’s was obviously dead but hers was in obvious pain on its side. She knelt by its side and looked at its wounds, she gathered her magic and poured it into the beast hoping to save it but it was far too late the horses injuries were far too grave for her magic alone to handle, and she had no idea if her potions would be safe for it. She could see the blast had ripped its body open, blood soaked the ground and she knew the kindest thing to do was to kill the beast. She stroked its snout and whispered, “It’s okay boy, it’s alright. Just rest now…” She frosted over the horses skin until she was sure it was numb and then plunged her dagger into its skull. She watched in dismay as the the light quickly faded from the horses eyes, she felt a hand squeeze her shoulder, she shrugged it off and got up, “We’ll need to grab more horses from Ivarstead before we go to Witchmist. The grove is still pretty far from town.” 

“Alright, then lets go.” He said as he began to move forward, she followed and soon after they arrived in the outskirts of the town where the stables were kept. She drew out her coin purse and dumped another two thousand into the stablemasters hands and she picked out their horses. She sighed, her purse was getting very light, she hoped that the staff was worth money, there was barely any use for a staff among serious magicka users, and she hardly wanted to get Varian in the habit of using one simply because it was easier. Easier but less efficient in the end. Undoubtedly she could find an idiot nord aspiring to be a mage. It was interesting the few she knew of, most were shunned by their families but still they gave everything they had up for magic. She would give up her magicka in a heart beat just to see her father again. She gave a breathy bittersweet laugh and then sighed, mortals were never happy or at least never satisfied with what they had. She rubbed the snout of her new horse, it was a dapple, just like her fathers. She swung herself up and straightened her back just like he always did. ‘Carry yourself with pride’ he’d always tell her every time he caught her slouching, ‘What’re you some kind of goblin?’ She smiled. 

“You going to share what has you smiling, cause I could certainly use some cheering today.” Varian called over, she kicked her horse to catch up to his as they made their way to the grove.

“Just better memories, I suppose. My father used to call me his little goblin, said there was no cure for it. Used to tell me this story of an elf who felt sorry for goblins. This elf was a mage of course, he was convinced they were the long lost Ayleids cursed by their slaves to live as the vile, ugly creatures they always had been on the inside. He thought they had suffered long enough and could no longer pose a threat to anyone, and it would be the greatest find of all history, after all everyone thinks the Ayleids are deceased. So he spent months studying the creatures, learning their ways, their culture and language.”

“Did any of it match up with the Ayleids?” Varian asked

She shook her head, “No, his fellow mages asked that too, they often mocked him horribly but he was determined to see it through. Eventually he captured a few goblins and began to run experiments on them, trying to find ways to draw out their true nature, but they died one by one and when they did he cut them up so he could look inside and maybe find proof there.”

“Did he ever find proof?” He asked, she smiled he was interested in this silly story her father had made up. 

“No, he never did, but he never gave up, never. He kept going back and capturing more and more until none were left but the little goblin children, and when he realized what he had done he was grief-stricken and guilt-ridden. He wanted to find homes for the little goblin children, so he went tribe to tribe to find one that would take them, each tribe took a different goblin kid, whether they liked the kids scent, or the kids looks or maybe the kid was strong and could be a mighty warrior he never knew why. But there was this one little goblin kid left and no one wanted her because she was the chief goblins daughter. He simply did not know what he was going to do with her but he couldn’t abandon her and so he decided he’d take her home and raise her as his own no matter what the other mages thought and that is how I became his little goblin.” She said smiling a little.

Varian looked at her, a small smile on his own, “You had a very good father.” 

“Yes.” She said, it was just too bad he didn’t have a very good daughter, she thought to herself. 

“I know you miss him dearly, I can see why. Perhaps you should focus on those little moments and remember that you had a good father even if not for very long, but it’s longer than some.” He replied. 

She looked over at him, “That’s right, your father was absent most of your life wasn’t he? I couldn’t imagine. I mean mine was pretty busy, but he always spent his days off with me, used to drive Mother crazy, they had so many fights by the time I was a teen. I wasn’t helping things either. But you have no good memories of your father?”

He shook his head, “Not many memories of him at all, good or bad. He was gone to war a lot and when he was home he was drunk a lot, trying to forget the cost of war, but there were a few times he was sober and spent time with me. He was a strict man, he liked routines and rules. He liked to battle but he did not like the consequences, hence why he drank. He liked to fish but hated hunting. I remember one time he brought a fawn home, said some careless idiot hunter had killed its mother and it would die without her. It was so tiny. We nursed it back to health and put it back in the wild. He said he hoped it would be okay on its own especially since we had kind of spoiled it.” 

She smiled, “He makes an odd picture, a military man with a soft heart for animals. He sounds interesting, I’m sorry you didn’t get to know him better.” She didn’t know what she’d do if she had barely known her father, she had loved him so much. She peered at Varian from the corner of her eye and felt a tug of sympathy, it was awful he hadn’t been able to get the same connection with his, and his mother hadn’t been that much better if she remembered correctly, “Did you ever get to see your mother again after you told her you were going into the army?”

He tensed but then relaxed and shook his head, “No, she told me she didn’t want to see me again if I signed up, I granted her wish. Twelve years later I received notice of her death and buried her. That was the very last time I saw her.” 

She bit her lip, “Were the two of you close before that night?” 

He turned to look at her, “Why does it matter to you so much?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, I just am interested. I tell you about my family, you tell me about yours…seems fair to me.” He narrowed his eyes as an innocent smile spread across her face.

“You’re up to something, I can smell an elf plotting a mile away.” He grumbled.

She snorted, “Oh yes, somehow this plot depends on your relations with your relatives. Have you ever considered that I am just interested in you?”

He frowned then, a shadow of longing and pain crossing over his face for just an instant, “It did, but you corrected me back in Whiterun.”

She tensed and fell silent, she looked away from him her heart racing. It was true, she had been trying her best to dash any hope within him. It would never work out and she certainly didn’t want to lead him on. She had wished there was a way to do so without hurting him but there never was an easy way out of these things. She looked at him, he was strong and kind, honorable. Perhaps he wasn’t as intelligent as she imagined her dream husband to be but he was eager to learn magic and surely that could be applied to other places. He already understood her issues and faced them not with frustration but with compassion. If he was an elf she knew they’d have done more than kiss the other night, but he wasn’t, it could never be anything more. She had given everything up, her parents, her life, everything. She couldn’t also be asked to give up her people, her heritage and culture, her homeland. She couldn’t strip away everything that made her her, no matter how she felt. And how did she feel anyway? There had been moments where she had longed to kiss him, to strip him and run her hands and lips over his chest once more, but that was just lust. Lust for a man, she felt heat rush to her face as she bowed her head in shame. Gods if any of her kind ever found that out they’d be disgusted, offended and mortified. Hell, she was all of those things, but another part of her wondered what it would be like. 

She was already ruined completely for any respectable marriage or life, being gang raped by a bunch of nords certainly qualified for ruination in the eyes of her fellows. Did it really matter if she slept with the General? She knew they would say it was worse because the General was a choice but what if that is what saved her? Having someone erase what they did? If she chose to be with the General, he could claim her. She could still feel them inside of her, what if sleeping with him helped her get over that? But what if it just brought her more shame? And what if her fellows found out? And surely that wasn’t a kind thing to do to Varian, use him for sex when she knew how he felt about her. She sighed, why did everything have to be so difficult? She couldn’t even believe she was thinking about this or considering it. She shook her head and decided to push it down like she did everything else. She had to focus, they were almost to the grove in fact she could see a little shack in the distance. 

As they approached she noticed the house was surrounded by sharp wooden stakes protruding from the dirt and the tiny shack looked broken down and dirty, more of a shamble hastily thrown together than anything anyone would choose to actually live in. “What is this place?” She said, “Anything looking familiar?”

He shook his head, “No, nothing. What kind of woman would possibly live like this?”

“That you would like to marry? Who knows. I thought you had better taste after all but perhaps I am wrong…” She smirked as he scowled at her. 

“Oh you’re a funny one, funny looking too.” He grumbled, glaring at her. 

She snorted and rolled her eyes, “I haven’t heard that one since I was a small child, gods you have some weak come backs. We must work on that.” 

“Well I do apologize that my people are more civilized when dealing with others than your people. We don’t spend an hour every day looking in the mirror practicing insults.” He snapped, his face turning red, she just grinned. 

She dismounted and tied her horse to a nearby tree, “You know staring in the mirror doesn’t really work for us, after all who could argue with perfection?” She said in a snotty tone, smirking as she walked towards the shack. She could hear him choking back a reply behind her and then the smell hit her. She clapped her hand over her nose and mouth and gagged as the foul stench of blood, feces and rotting meat wafted out of the house. Now that they were closer she could see the flies buzzing around it in large swarms. 

“Smells like someone died here.” He wrinkled his nose beside her. She looked at him astounded that he didn’t seem all that phased by the stench, did he not smell how awful it was? 

“Maybe you killed your fiance.” She said, it seemed to be the only explanation for the stench, though a large and dead animal could have also been making the stench but if that was true how could this woman live with the smell? She took a step forward trying her best to ignore her rebelling stomach, he grabbed her elbow and pulled her back, she turned to look at him but his eyes were riveted on the hut. 

“Did you see that? The shadows moved inside.” He whispered.

She shook her head and squinted her eyes, she had been too focused on ignoring the smell to notice anything else. It was overwhelming her senses completely. She peered closer and could see something moving just slightly inside the shack. “Hello?” She called out, the hairs on the back of her arm stood up, something was definitely not right about this. The sound of nails scraping across the wooden floor and a strange hissing noise, almost like a snake, answered her. Varian pulled out his sword and she raised her hands ready to fight if it came down to it. 

“Darling! I’ve been waiting for you to return, to consummate our love!” A gravelly but shrill voice nearly shrieked, she peered at her companion from the corner of her eyes and saw him tense but peer curiously towards the shacks door. She scowled, men were so fickle. As she looked back at the doorway to the hut a clawed hand and foot appeared, dread tingled down her spine and within a few seconds a hagraven stood before them only a few feet away. “I am so glad you came back in time for the wedding, you have no idea how difficult it is to get everything ready especially in an old fort like Morvunskar.”

She looked at Varian to find him staring in horror and disgust at the creature before them, and she couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing, “You proposed to a hagraven? Oh god, I’ll never forget this. I wonder will she lay eggs or just give birth normally?” Varian glared at her, his face was turning a deep shade of red but she couldn’t stop laughing. She laughed until her stomach hurt and she couldn’t breathe, tears flowed freely down her cheeks and the harder she tried to stop the harder she laughed. 

Varian turned back to the hagraven scowling and said, “Actually, I was hoping to get the ring back.”

“What? You want it for that hussy Esmerlda, with the dark feathers—don’t you? I won’t let her have you!” She shrieked with a scream of rage, her voice cut through her laughter and hurt her ears the sound of metal being dragged across stone. Before either of them could react she was swiping at him with her claws. For such a lumbering, horrible beast she was quite fast, he raised his sword blocking her and dodged out of the way. 

“Keep her busy!” She called to him as she pooled her magicka into her hands for the strongest paralysis spell she knew. She let it loose but when it hit the enraged hagraven it fizzed out. “Shit!” The hagraven turned to her, her dark eyes lit with rage and launched itself towards her, giving Varian enough time to quickly thrust his sword into her back between her shoulder blades. The hagraven hissed and Gadheriel watched as the life fled from its animal like eyes, when the strange creature dropped to the ground with a thud she looked up at Varian. He had claw marks, scratches, across his face and his armor was absolutely shredded but he didn’t look too injured, instead she smiled again, “You were engaged to a hagraven. I’m so sorry you had to kill the one true love of your life before you could, ah, what was it? Consummate your love. Tell me though, what exactly was it about her that drew you to her? Was it the sheen of her feathers? Did you see her preening in the moonlight and just think ‘I have to have her’?”

“Oh shut up.” He snapped, his face turning beet red again, she laughed and placed her hand over the wounds on his face, they were relatively easy to heal, she could remember one of her fellows returning to the embassy missing fingers after a fight with a hagraven. He looked thoughtfully at her, “She mentioned the ceremony was supposed to be at Morvunskar and people are there preparing for it, what do you bet whatever is really going on is happening there?”

Her laughter faded and she nodded, “Most likely but I don’t get the correlation of these events, or why this Sam would be there. Though if there is a plot, and the fact that you were portalled all over certainly says there is, or at least that this Sam was involved in your shenanigans then it would make sense for him to see this through. Alright to Morvunskar, hopefully we’ll find answers there. Are you sure you don’t want to stop at Esmerelda’s to admire her feathers before we go?” 

He scowled and glared at her, “This is not a joke! We could have died, who pits a drunk against giants and hagravens? Someone out for blood that’s who!” He snarled as he swung himself up on his horse, “And you will never mention any of this to anyone else.”

She smiled over at him as she got up on her own horse, “You mean I can’t publish it under the title, “The dashing General and his Lusty Hagraven lover?”

“I am never going to hear the end of this.” He grumbled, “Just wait till I get my hands on Sam, I will kill him myself!” He huffed and looked up at the sun, “What happened to your magic anyway, your spell didn’t work.”

She sighed, “Yes well, I panicked for a second and forgot that alteration spells rarely work upon half-breeds.” She said raising her head as her cheeks heated up.

“Why not? You were trying to paralyze her weren’t you?” He asked his brow furrowing.

She beamed, “You noticed! Yes well, alteration changes things doesn’t it? And if one thing is two things put together one spell therefore has to change two things at once. It is nearly impossible, not due to the limits of magicka, but of the mortal mind. Mages in the guild have theorized for centuries now that what we thought of limitations on magicka are in fact limitations brought upon by our minds. Mortals can only take so much before going insane or shutting down, you know. It’s quite fascinating, there was a case study done on Mannimarco—after the fact of course—a bunch of mages from the guild and other researchers asked the Vestige to take them coldharbour, down into the depths where Mannimarco was being tortured. She obliged and they began decades of study on him. Sad fate though, but a ground breaking one nonethless, they wouldn’t have gotten away with it in Tamriel, you know Human experimentation especially on a High elf but I doubt the Dominion had jurisdiction in Coldharbour.” 

He furrowed his brow at her, “I remember hearing about Mannimarco, if anyone deserved to be experimented on it was him, at least to find what had gone wrong to make him so..deluded.”

“Well he wasn’t deluded, it all stems back to our cultural and religious beliefs you see. He wanted to be a god, us Altmer believe we are the descendants of Gods destined to become them once more through perfection. I mean most High Elves try to attain perfection through other means, such as beauty in the arts and such, Mannimarco was just more…practical.” She smiled, “Made him a much more dangerous enemy than most.”

He shook his head, “You know a lot of the problems have stemmed from that belief, you think your people will ever give their delusions of godhood up for their own good and the rest of Tamriel’s good?”

She sighed, “Doubtful, even if they are delusions I highly doubt that my people could be persuaded to part with their beliefs even if you could prove and get them acknowledge their beliefs are delusions.” 

“Of course not.” He said dryly, he nodded towards a stone building in the distance, “Morvunskar up ahead, not too far away from the Grove.”

“Ah yes, with such a great view for the wedding, I wonder where you both intended to honeymoon.” She smirked as he glared at her. “So General how do we want to approach this?”

“Well maybe the people inside will know I’m the groom and won’t attack.” He said thoughtfully, “We may just be able to traipse in without the use of violence.”

“Your positive thinking is what gets you in so much trouble all the time you know.” She remarked, “Look, whatever happened that night or whomever this Sam character is, we can pretty much rule out domicile wedding guests. He’s already sent you to giants, hagravens and angry Dibellan priestesses, I highly doubt these people—or whatever they are—are going to be welcoming us with open arms.” 

“You ever think it may be your negative thinking that attracts all the bad things that happen like slaughterfish smelling blood?” He huffed as they dismounted and tied their horses to another set of trees.

“I think my negative thinking is what keeps me alive, thank you very much.” She snapped, there had been a time she had been more positive, more hopeful, the General knew that but that seemed like forever ago. It was what got her caught in the first place. She felt her chest tighten and she took a deep steadying breath. They were so close to Windhelm, to Ulfric Stormcloak and the men who had hurt her. No, the men who had tortured her were dead but their comrades, they would have no qualms in doing the same to her if she was caught. Why was she out here in the open so close to them? She was tempting fate, walking right into their hands, she may as well be walking into the city itself. She knew there were patrols, it wouldn’t be that hard for the patrols to overpower them. She felt her heart begin to beat fast again and she grabbed Varian by the arm, he turned his head to her and his face softened. 

“We need to get out of here—it was stupid to come out here. We’re too close.” She mumbled as she wrapped her arms around herself.

He walked over to her and grabbed her arms turning her to face him, “Look we’re almost done, we just have to get into this fort and find out what is going on, then we can head back to Ivarstead, alright?”

“What if they come? The patrols, they’ll come. If not now, later, when we’re on the way out. They’ll over power us and they’ll tie me up. They’ll cut me again, they’ll hurt you. Make you watch as they-they..” She fell quiet as her breath was stolen away.

He growled and gently placed his hands on either side of her head and raised her head to meet his eyes, “I will _never_ allow that to happen, do you understand me?”

She laughed a little madly, “How could you stop it if we were overpowered and tied up Varian? You’d be helpless, you’d get yourself killed. Gods that would be so much worse.” She said her eyes drifting off as the little breath she could pull in was fast and shallow. “They’d still hurt me and you’d be gone forever.” 

She looked into his eyes, her heart thrumming with fear, “Please I can’t—I won’t be captured again.” 

He pressed his lips to her forehead and then placed his own forehead against hers, she closed her eyes clinging to the feeling, trying to focus on that rather than the fear trying to overwhelm her. She just wanted to run, run back to Ivarstead, to Solitude back to her tower tucked away with the General in front of the fire drinking and laughing. She had never been one to tuck her tail like an abused dog but she wasn’t the person she used to be. She felt his breath on her face and opened her eyes to remind her who he was, “Listen to me Gadheriel, I can not promise that we won’t get attacked, that what you fear won’t come to pass. No one can promise that. The only thing I can promise—that I am promising—is that if it were to happen I would fight with all I had every second until you were free and safe. But you can not live your life by fear, always worried about what may happen. You will worry, that is normal but you can’t let the worry and fear make your decisions for you. You’re stronger than that.”

She looked into his eyes and swallowed past the lump in her throat, “I used to think so, I used to think nothing could touch me. Master mage, Commander in the Thalmor, after everything I had been through and done I thought I had hardened enough. I never thought…..there were times in the Great War when we’d exchange prisoners, and our people would come back tortured and completely deranged and I thought ‘how could they let themselves go?’ ‘Why didn’t they keep themselves?’ or ‘Why don’t they pick themselves back up to get revenge?’ I thought if that was me I would not be like them…because I was stronger, better, wiser…” She scoffed, “What a fool I was.”

“I don’t think anyone can know what they’d do in those types of situation, it is always different experiencing it yourself. Hell, we torture Stormcloaks for information without ever thinking about what if that was us? No one can know, but I do know one thing, I know that the you that existed before is still in there, I’ve seen her. She’s just afraid to come back out and get hurt again so you let the fear be your protection but we both know that fear harms as much as it helps, if not more so.” He said softly his thumbs stroking her cheeks gently.

She leaned into the comforting touch that kept her grounded in the now rather than the what-ifs or past memories and sighed, “I don’t know what to do Varian.” She hated how her voice shook, hated how she felt wide open for attack.

“One day at a time, one second at a time.” He replied, “Every moment is different, just one step in front of the other, it is all any of us can do without being able to see the future.” She nodded and pulled away from him, she took a steadying breath and looked around them.

“Alright, one second at a time then. So, this second we need to find a way into the fort and determine the occupants disposition towards us.” She said as she backed away a few feet and crossed her arms looking up at the fort. She felt a chill go through her now that his warmth was gone but she hardened herself against it. 

“We could just stroll up to the front door.” He mentioned, “Of course that would present a problem if they were hostile towards us but if we snuck in and they aren’t that might arouse suspicion.”

“Suspicion of what? It is your wedding after all, shouldn’t they be expecting you regardless?” She asked her brows raised.

“Who knows what Sam has planned, it’s not like he’s been exactly helpful in this endeavor, giants, hagravens and all.” He huffed.

“Yeah but was that his doing or just you drunk? Or maybe the drink itself?” She was confused, there were far too many variables, and there didn’t seem to be any point to any of it. What did Sam, or whoever it was, get out of all of this? And what did a staff have to do with any of this? None of it made any sense, almost like something Sheogorath would do, and she had a feeling those portals were not man made, no single person could open a portal so quickly, so many times. Portal magic was tricky and advance, it also took a lot of energy and effort. So unless this drunken breton mage was some sort of mastermind she didn’t think he was mortal at all. What if it was a daedric prince then what would they do? What did the prince want with Varian? Did Varian make a deal he couldn’t remember? She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, too many variables. One second at a time. 

“Alright here is what we will do, we’ll play both fronts. I’ll get in position and make sure I’m not seen then when I’m ready you’ll walk through, if they begin to attack I can begin blasting them to bits from afar and clear us a path.” She said when he didn’t answer. 

“How many do you think there are?” He asked her worriedly.

“Well how many did you invite?” She replied dryly, smiling innocently when he glared at her. “You got a better plan that’ll cover both bases?”

He sighed, “No but that doesn’t mean I have to like it, I feel like bait.”

“But you’re such good, handsome, kind bait….” She replied in a saccharine voice. She crouched low and crept around the building giving it a wide berth until she had circled to the left side of it and slunk up the hill behind some trees. She paused to peer at the tower, paying careful attention to the towers and walls for any movement. She could already spot what looked like two mages, she was sure there were more, but why were they all mages and not dressed for a wedding? This wasn’t anything good, she crept as close as possible to the door while still able to keep a clear path to the open archway where Varian would be heading, she motioned to him and he nodded walking up calmly. 

She felt both a thrill at seeing action again and a tendril of worry she couldn’t shake. She wanted to watch Varian but knew the best way to keep him alive was to keep her eyes on his enemies and sure enough she could see them all running towards him as he approached the archway. She smiled and began blasting them with explosive fireballs. Bits of the stone walls blew away in chunks, body parts were ripped apart and shrieks of pain filled the air along with a healthy spray of blood. She switched to lightning as Varian was being mobbed by three mages, she was far too afraid to blast them with a fireball, she’d likely take out Varian along with them. She called out to him, “Varian position!” 

She watched as he roll dodge until the three mages backs were to her and they were between her and Varian. She quickly decimated two of them and watched in glee as Varian thrust his sword through the last mages chest. She jumped down from the small incline and walked beside him towards the door, “Wasn’t so bad but I think I got more.”

“I got a respectable amount thank you very much, it’s not like I have an explosive sword now do I?” He huffed. She tried not to laugh but couldn’t keep it in, he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Elves…”

She pushed the door open and slipped in silently, she pressed a finger to her lips as voices filtered out of a room a dozen yards away to the right. Her heart was hammering once again but this time in anticipation, she had gotten what the thrill of battle felt like, it had been so long since she had been on the battlefield. She quietly moved to one side of the door, and he stayed on the other, “Alright, I’m going to go in and cause havoc, you sweep in after me and in the chaos take any out you can.” She whispered, he nodded and grabbed the handle to the door, swinging it open she sprinted in screaming and throwing destruction spells all over. It didn’t take long for the enemy mages to take stock of the situation but long enough for Varian to slip behind one mage and slit her throat, the other fell relatively easy once his magicka had been depleted by her lightning spells. 

“We make a pretty good team.” He mused.

“Yes you follow directions exceptionally well.” She commented, he glared at her but she merely laughed, “Now you know how your men feel, but we do work well together…” She led the way out of the room and down the stairs, they battled their way easily through to the very last room. She groaned inwardly, the room was large and the layout was terrible for any invaders. There was too many pillars to hide behind and little hideaways to linger in. There was no high ground either except for where they were and she couldn’t see anyone from where they were. She crept down the stairs and weaved silently through the pillars until she saw them, there was a whole mess of mages in the room but she could tell which one was the leader. She emanated magic, any elf could sense her presence a mile away. 

“Well there’s no sneaky way of doing this. I say we just rush in.” He whispered.

“That’s a terrible idea.” She replied exasperated.

“You have a better one?” 

“No.” She sighed, she wished she did but she couldn’t see how else they were to do this, at least they could take out two before they were made. She gathered her magic and sent a fireball toward the alchemy station. The blast shook the entire room, and the chain explosions nearly deafened them, she could see three dead already, leaving only two apprentice mages and the boss, all three of which were coming their way. She dodged an ice spike from the Master Mage and Varian yelled, “I got these two, you deal with her!” 

This mage was no joke, her ice spikes were fast, large and sharp, if one so much as grazed her it would take her out. She spent most of her time roll dodging and setting up rune traps made of shock so the mage couldn’t go out of the bubble she built for her, and she made a wall of fire between the two just in case the mage tried to get to her with a dagger. She threw herself behind a pillar just as the ice spike shattered against it. She took a second to catch her breath and regroup, trying to come up with some sort of plan. This battle could not be won by sheer force, the mage was either her equivalent or stronger, no this would be a battle of cunning. She looked around and an idea came to her as she realized how many pillars, piles of rubble and walls there were in the large room. Perfect.

She rolled from behind the pillar into the open and dodging the many ice spikes thrown her way she dashed towards the master mage, she could hear Varian screaming her name, out of the corner of her eye she could see him rushing towards her. He must have taken down the other mages by now, she wouldn’t let him steal this one. She threw her entire body into the mage whose eyes widened with surprise, the mages hand groped for something at her waist and Gadheriel saw the flash of a dagger in the dim light of the room. She tumbled away from the mage letting the woman fall on her own, she rolled to a stop near the wall and slapped her hand against it. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the stone wall, she let her magic wash over it in waves the very surface of the stone rippling. The Master Mage was standing once more and running at her with her dagger raised, the gap between them was closing fast. Gadheriel threw herself to her feet and readied her magic but the mage threw up a ward with her free hand. She felt the dagger plunge into her arm, she screamed in agony. She had felt this pain before, the pain of a blade buried into her leg viciously deep enough to get stuck in the bone. Cruel laughter and boisterous shouts echoed in her ears. They had found such joy in her pain and humiliation, they had been so happy, so excited. Her ruination was their entire purpose in life. She felt her heart begin to pump hard, a flush of intense heat, her skin crawled and she began to tremble. 

Rage consumed her, “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” She screamed as the woman yanked the dagger from her arm but the pain only fueled her anger. She was seeing red, they would pay! “YOU WILL PAY! YOU ALL WILL PAY! I’LL MAKE SURE THE THALMOR LEAVE NO NORD ALIVE!” She grabbed the woman by her neck and punched her in the face over and over again, the mage grabbed her and sent lightning through her body, she could feel the sting, could feel her muscles clench and her energy begin to drain but every beat of her heart pumped fury through her body. She tightened her hand around the mages throat and then with all her strength she shoved her towards the wall. She watched as the mage connected with the wall but instead of hitting it and bouncing off, she began to sink into the wall until she had been completely absorbed. Gadheriel threw her hands on the floor only inches away from the wall and with what energy she had to spare she solidified the wall again, a large cracking noise echoing in the large room. 

She heaved trying to catch her breath, her face was still hot and she was trembling all over as she knelt on the floor before the wall but the room was silent except for the sound of Varian’s breathing. He sounded stunned, almost in awe as he said, “Did you just—bury her alive in stone?”

She smiled twistedly and slowly got to her feet, her arm hurt like a bitch but when she turned around she merely nodded, “Yes, I turned the stone to a more liquefied state then when she went through it I solidified it again. So many people underestimate alteration magic, even those at the College of Winterhold, they think it’s for nothing more than armor or paralyzing an enemy, but it is so much more. I’ve always believed it is the most deadly of magicks.” 

He looked at her, “This school of magicka is looked down upon so much, even by your fellows? I feel that the war would have been lost much sooner had others used it.”

She nodded, “Yes, my fellows are aware of its potential but it is seldom used for many reasons. The first is they teach you armor spells first, which is boring enough and that takes forever. You see there are different levels of armor spells and you need to master each one before you head to the next. It is far more dangerous to attempt to change your skin to ebony than it is to oak, still dangerous but wood is more soft than ebony, meaning it is closer to skin than ebony. The second reason is alteration is an incredibly difficult school to master, you need to know everything possible about the substance you are altering and the substance or whatever you are changing it to, it is easier to change its shape than its molecular composition. The earth bridge I made was easy because it was a shape but this wall was a change in its composition. So you must also study history, science, astronomy, everything possible. I read a lot, and you must keep up with studies and what not. It’s not for the unintelligent, lazy, or people who lack dedication.”

He was looking at her with an expression she didn’t recognize then he said, “You’re something else, you know that? Remind me to never piss you off.”

“Too late you’ve done that so many—” She began when the sound of an oblivion portal split the air, a transparent blue bubble hummed to life only feet away from them but when she turned to face it she heard Varian curse.

“You’re hurt, why didn’t you say anything?” He demanded angrily, he grabbed her injured arm carefully and pulled up her robes. She hissed in pain, her head going light as his fingers brushed over the stab wound. 

“It’s not a big deal, I can heal it up in a bit, just need to recoup my energy and magicka.” She said softly, breathing in deeply to stave off the pain. “You should be more worried about this daedric portal, after all dear old Sam wasn’t any of the mages we killed off.” 

He eyed it with disdain and a long-suffering sigh escaped his lips, “Why is it always daedra?” He sounded exasperated to which she just smiled, “Well which one do you suppose it is?”

“Well I was thinking Sheogorath but usually with the Prince of Madness there is usually a lesson to be learned with his little games, but I can’t see any higher purpose or lesson in any of this, other than don’t take drinks from strange men in bars when you’re moody and under the influence of a daedric prince and even I can’t see Sheogorath wasting his time with that sort of lesson. Since most mortals already know that without needing to be told.” She gave him a ‘told you so’ look.

“I suppose walking away from this isn’t an option if I want my life to return to normal.” He breathed in, “Alright, lets go.” They walked into the bubble together, afraid that it would only port the one who stepped in first. The feeling of cold water washing over her and then a tingling and when she opened her eyes once again they were standing in a garden upon a path. She leaned against Varian as they walked forward, instead of feeling stronger she was weakening. The pain in her arm and the blood loss was making her feel woozy and weak, she felt his strong arm wrap around her waist and she breathed out with relief as she leaned more into him. She couldn’t help but smile even if they were about to meet a daedric prince and even the General couldn’t save her from one of those, though she knew he’d try. She muttered, “You’re far too good for me, y’know.”

He scoffed, “If you only knew, you didn’t see the worst of my memories or my sins you know.” He looked down at her as she peered up at him.

“It’s not who you were that matters, you can not change that. It’s who you choose to be now that matters and I know who you are. You’re a good, honorable, brave, patient, handsome man.” She slurred, she was so tired. She nearly slid to the ground but thankfully his arm around her tightened, she stumbled and he slowed his pace. “S’okay I can walk.” She murmured as he went to pick her up. 

“Stubborn elves.” He grumbled as he led her forward until finally they stood in front of a long dinner table full of drinks, food and party goers. Sam was standing before them smiling.

“You’re here! I was beginning to think you might not make it.” He said smiling widely. 

She slumped completely against Varian who wrapped his other arm around her and glared at the Prince, but it was she who spoke, “Y’know you’re uglier than most princes.” She heard Varian inhale sharply and squeezed her in warning, she rolled her eyes and fell silent, it took too much energy to speak anyway. 

“So which one are you then? We know you aren’t Sheogorath at least. Well according to the elf you aren’t.” He huffed, “Although you have made me act like a mad man so I’m still debating—”

“S’not smart enough to be Sheogorath.” She muttered sleepily. 

He shifted his eyes towards her, “Perhaps it would be prudent to not insult a Daedric Prince especially when we are in his realm and you are too weak to stand on your own?” 

“Mmm pro’lly. Sorry you’re so stupid.” She giggled a little. 

He looked up to find Sam was gone and in his place stood a dremora, or what looked like one anyway. “I am Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery.”

“Oooh, imagine a party with him and Sheogorath, it would be splendid, we should arrange a get together.” She murmured.

“Been there, tried that, trust me it didn’t work out well.” Sanguine commented merrily.

“So what this was just a prank to you? You completely overturned my life, not to mention nearly got me killed more than a dozen times!” 

“I do not prank, oh no this was more than just a mere prank. This may have begun as a minor amusement, but it wasn’t long before I realized you’d make a more interesting bearer of my not-quite-holy staff.”

“Why me?”

“Let’s be honest here, I don’t always think my decisions through. But you….you’re going places. Maybe a little influence from your old Uncle Sanguine could help adjust your course a bit. Now here take the staff.” Sanguine pushed the staff into the General’s chest but he made no move to grasp it.

“If you’re trying to reward or compensate me for the mess you made, I’d rather you just heal my friend.” He said, “She did get injured fighting off your cultists.”

“Oh those weren’t my cultist, at least I don’t think.” Sanguine laughed, “But you will take the staff and use it in your travels.” He ended in a quiet, threatening voice. 

“And what of Gadheriel? Shouldn’t I get some sort of recompense besides a staff I will never use, and most likely will have destroyed?” He said.

“Mmm no argue with Uncle Sanguine. He’s kinda cute.” She muttered giggling. 

Sanguine smiled and looked more carefully at her, “Ah yes it’s you then, not him, yes. Yes I see it now. You’re the bride of destruction.” He leaned in and then smiled and laughed boisterously, “Well then here you go lass! A fine staff for you, and yes, yes of course I should heal the bearer of my weapon!” He waved his hands and the staff was suddenly on her back and a rush of energy revitalized her, the pain faded and she could stand on her own. She felt perfectly well, she gazed at her arm to find it was completely healed as if there had never been a wound there. 

“Thank you.” She said as she studied the staff, “Oh it’s pretty…”

“My pleasure. But I think it’s time for you to go. No fun keeping you locked up in here with the staff.” 

Minutes later they both found themselves by their horses outside of Morvunskar, “All this for what? Absolutely nothing!” Varian growled.

“Well at least nothing terrible came of it, no deals, no dead bodies—well besides those cultists or whomever they were. All in all a mere inconvenience that was dealt with.” She said.

He shook his head, “Daedra, I’ll never understand them.”

She peered at him as they both mounted their horses, “You know you say the same thing about us elves.”

“Yeah and I mean it then too.” He grumbled but gave her a tired smile, “Lets get back to Ivarstead, I am too exhausted to go on much longer, and the sun is beginning to set.” 

She led the way back happily, the farther away from Windhelm she was the better. She looked over at him, “So you want to learn some alteration magic? Let’s start with the armor spell then. Touch your skin, smell it, lick it, peer at it closely. Know every detail of your left hand.”

“My left hand?” He asked her as he peered at it closely. 

She nearly laughed but remembered how ridiculous she must have looked as well, “Yes, we’ll start small and work our way up. Once you think you have it memorized, pull up your energy and imagine it encasing your hand, sinking slowly into it and turning it into oak.” She watched his brows knit together in focus and saw his hand glow than fade, leaving it exactly the same. He tried many more times but nothing was happening. 

“I can’t do it.” He said in frustration, “Show me what it is supposed to look like maybe that’ll help.” She nodded, raising her own hand she casted it around it with ease. He nodded and tried it again and again to no avail before he merely said, “Right, you did say it was the hardest school of magic to learn, I shouldn’t be too surprised I didn’t get it on the first few tries.”

She laughed, “Giving up already? Quitter.” 

He scoffed, “I am just exhausted is all, wait and see, once I get some sleep I’ll be able to cast it over and over perfectly.” 

“Sure, sure, naturally.” She smirked as they came into Ivarstead a few minutes later. She looked around surprised to see dozens of Imperial soldiers roaming around the streets, she looked over at Varian who seemed just as surprised, “What is going on?” She asked him as she dismounted her horse in front of a house. 

He frowned, “I have no idea, we should check it out. If the Legion is here in force something is going down.” He said gruffly as he slid off his own horse. They walked together until they found a soldier who didn’t seem quite as busy, “Soldier, what’s happening?”

“General Tullius sir!” He stood to attention and looked around him, “Oh, uh, well General Bastillion’s making his way through Skyrim, trying to root out any Stormcloaks hiding away in the towns. Figures if he can drive them all back to Windhelm we can just siege the city and be done with it.” 

“Very well, at ease soldier, where is Bastillion now?” 

“In the Inn sir, he’s set it up as headquarters for the time being.” 

“Oh that’s great, where will we sleep now, the stable?” She scoffed, “God, doesn’t anyone bathe in the Legion?” She wrinkled her nose at the soldier who glared at her but then seemed to think better of it and looked away. She followed him to the inn but then Varian grabbed her arm.

“You should wait outside, Bastillion doesn’t take to elves that well.” He said quietly.

“Too damn bad.” She snapped and shoved the door to the inn open anyhow, her teeth were already grinding in irritation. Tullius wasn’t the only one that was tired she hardly wanted to deal with a bunch of idiot imperials at the moment. The inn was full to burst with Imperials, she had to squeeze between the different men and woman in uniform but finally she spotted the uniform she had become familiar with in her time with Varian. She looked back to find Tullius right on her heel, she walked up to Bastillion and tapped his shoulder. “Explain yourself.” She demanded as he turned around.

Bastillion looked her up and down, his gaze was disgusting. She could see how it lingered over every curve, she glared at him but when he met her gaze again he returned the glare, “Since when do I answer to a Thalmor, hm?”

“Since the White-Gold Concordat General, now answer my question.” She said coldly, her back was rigid, she knew she was outnumbered here, knew it wouldn’t be wise to push buttons. After all a threat of Thalmor reinforcements wouldn’t help when they were so far away, a courier would take days to reach them and she was never quite that good at portal magic. She knew it’d be wise to go forward with precaution but she also had to make sure they knew not to mess with her. 

He looked at her with disdain, “I am here on Imperial business.” He answered flippantly, he began to turn around but she grabbed his arm, digging her fingers in. He yanked it back and hissed, “Do not ever touch me you disgusting vermin.”

“You will show me some respect or I will be doing a lot more than just grabbing your arm.” She said stepping forward just as he did. She could hear Varian’s sharp in take of breath, and the way the room silenced, every head turned to them. She should have gotten him alone, he wouldn’t want to lose face before his men. 

“Oh really, what else do you want to grab hm?” He jeered smirking, some of the men laughed, others looked away nervously. 

“We could certainly start there if you’d like, though I usually like to leave that for last.” She answered coyly, a small smile spreading across her face and before anyone could stop her she reached out and grabbed his crotch twisting it violently as she sent jolts through it. He screamed in pain, she could hear the sound of swords unsheathing and hollers of bloody elves but she quickly released him and shoved him away from her. She wanted nothing more than to wash her hand, stick them in boiling water and scrape the skin off them but she couldn’t back down. She knew this game, and she knew she could not lose it if she wanted to survive in peace in Ivarstead.

The General remained bent over, his arm resting on the table supporting his weight until finally he took a deep breath and stood up straight. His face was a violent red and he was heaving in rage, “Why you—You dare attack me?! No good elves, what’s it to you why we’re here. We are doing as you told us to—put an end to Ulfric Stormcloak.”

“As I recall he resides in Windhelm, General, surely you haven’t forgotten that?” She said mockingly. 

“We’ve been going through the towns and holds, searching for supporters.” He answered gruffly. 

“Ah, leading a witch hunt, hm? And what proof do you have of their guilt before you shove them on the chopping block hm?” She asked. He turned towards the table and threw something at her feet. When she looked down she saw a Talos figurine. “That is hardly proof, most nords had little shrines to Talos in their homes, and yet most nords are not Stormcloaks, are they? So basically you spend your days harrassing stable boys and farm girls to boost that fragile ego, while the Stormcloaks grow in numbers and advance their plans.” 

“My men do not harrass anyone, we’re delivering peace to this land one way or another! I will not be questioned by a damn elf—a rogue Thalmor from what I’ve heard! Oh yes,” He hissed as she paled, “Elenwen told me all about you. How you’ve always sympathized with the nords, and sabotaged your own people and the Legion, and now you’re rogue, missing in action, and let me tell you Elenwen has many of your pals searching for you. I wonder how long it will take them to find you. A courier could get to the Embassy in what, three days? You’d be long gone by then, but she’ll certainly had a good lead on your vicinity.” 

She breathed in deeply and glared at him, “You go ahead and do that, I have nothing to hide, if Elenwen wishes to know what I’ve been up to than she can very well send me a missive, or track me down as she is apparently trying to according to you. Now can you say the same? I want to see your evidence log and your books. I also want papers on every soldier under your command and the log of activites you’ve kept.” She spat as she walked over to the only open table in the corner of the Inn, “I’ll set up shop over here, if you don’t mind.” She sat herself down and tapped her fingers on the table impatiently. 

“You do that, Emerson grab whatever the elf wants. An enemy in your sight is better than one in your blind spot after all.” He said, and soon enough a stack of large books was piled in front of her on the table. Soon enough everyone was going about their business as usual, their eyes shifting over to her every few minutes, she watched in dismay as Varian and Bastillion seemed to be in a heated discussion, standing together whispering fiercely with their heads bowed. She wondered what that was about, she pulled the nearest stack of soldier papers over to her and began to read through them, taking note of anything out of the ordinary. It wasn’t long until Varian sauntered over to her.

“Must you butt heads with every single person you meet?” He huffed sitting down, his eyes traveling over all the paperwork, “Is this really necessary?” 

“Oh yes, if I want leave to kill him I need to find evidence of treachery first.” She explained. 

His mouth dropped open but no sound came out at first until he gathered his wits, “What?” 

“Well, part of any good Thalmor’s duties is making sure our laws are upheld by all of those under our rule. Anything else is treason, isn’t it? Just one shred of evidence pointing towards treason and I can lawfully slit his throat. It’ll be fantastic.” She said. 

He sighed, “I know he isn’t the most…hospitable person Gadheriel but the man is one of the finest General’s in the Legion, you won’t find anything. Look if you want to rest there’s no room in the inn but he’s putting us up in the house next door, the one on the left. I’m going to go rest, then I’ll be back to see what this is truly about. Something feels off.” 

“But he’s one of the finest General’s in the Legion, surely he wouldn’t be doing anything that he needs to hide would he?” She raised her brow at him then returned to the tedious and monotonous files. “Isn’t it odd that these are dragged around by the army?” 

Tullius nodded, “It is, one of the many reasons this doesn’t feel right. If you insist on doing this here, instead of at the house than watch your back alright?”

She nodded, “Don’t worry, I will.” She didn’t plan to let her guard down for one second among this elf-hating rabble. She spent all night going over the files but she could find nothing out of the ordinary in them, there was something that bothered her about them but she couldn’t put her finger on it just then. She was far too tired to continue looking at the paperwork, instead she pushed herself up and gathered the books and files under her arms. She walked out into the night air, it had to be just before dawn, the cool air bit into her after the lulling warmth of the inn. She walked to the house Varian had mentioned and walked in to find an older female nord washing laundry in the kitchen. She stopped short and looked around, “This is your house.”

“Yes, but you are welcome to stay. I…I didn’t expect a Thalmor, I don’t have any rooms quite up to your standards just a—” The woman began her voice growing more fearful by the second, a headache was already forming behind her eyes when she waved the woman off dismissively.

“If it has a bed, I don’t care. I’m just exhausted. Are their others hosting soldiers in their homes as well?” She asked curiously as she followed the woman towards the back of the house.

“Yes about a week ago or so, the Imperials’ rode into town. We were all so happy to have them here after all the recent struggles with the Stormcloaks. You know we have Ulfric’s lands on all sides of us and Neutral Balgruuf is our closest ally. It was a relief to have them here, but more and more kept coming and soon they began to commandeer houses and businesses for their men. Now there is so many they’re sleeping in tents in the middle of the road. Nothing is getting done, our entire lives have been upheaved and currently revolves around them and their needs. They’ve recruited us as servants y’know, that’s when the men aren’t harrassing our daughters.” The woman explained.

“What’s your name?” She asked as she dropped the books on the dresser and her pack on the floor next to the bed.

“Adisla.” The nord answered 

“Adisla, I’m Gadheriel, I’ll try not to inconvenience you like the rest of the rabble roaming around town. I’m here to check in with the townsfolk anyway, make sure things are okay, and now this problem with the Legion has become my problem. But for now I need to sleep.”

“Yes ma’am, thank you very much. G’night now.” She said softly closing the door quietly. 

The minute she was alone she undressed and got in her nightgown, she’d sleep in tomorrow, catch up on some sleep and then be able to catch them unawares. She wondered if her presence in the house would endanger the lady, she seemed nice enough, even for a Nord. It would not surprise her if Bastillion’s men tried to harrass her in some way, but Adisla shouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. She fell into an uneasy sleep, only to be awoken a few hours later by a violent pounding on her wall. She jerked awake to the thundering noise only to realize it was coming from the window but by the time she got up to look out it no one was there. She sighed, she knew men like Bastillion would have to get back. She had seen his type so many times before. She had bested him the other day and humiliated him in front of his men, a man like that could not bear it. No he’d have to get even, she sighed and grabbed a clean set of robes and walked out of her room. She found the washroom at the end of the hallway. Her door was almost right next to it, and to the right of her door there were four others. 

She wondered at the contraption in the bathroom, a pile of hot coals sat in a recess in the floor above it stood a ceramic tub full of steaming water. She was used to heating her water with her own magic but this was just as well. It was a wonder what men could come up with to replace simple magic. She stepped in and relaxed for a while. After an hour she stepped out of the room with her fresh robes on and her hair dry and brushed into a ponytail once again. She stepped in to the kitchen to find a young boy, an older man and the woman from last night sitting at the table eating soup and sandwiches. She breathed in sharply as she watched the family. The man and boy were talking and laughing and the woman was scolding them but she had a smile on her face. She smiled at the innocent interaction, it reminded her so much of her own family. It didn’t take very long for the boy to notice her, his eyes went wide and filled with fear. The man turned around to see what had frightened his child so much and even he looked surprised.

“Ah, I should have mentioned, General Tullius’ guest is Gadheriel. Why don’t you come eat with us, dear. You must be hungry.” She said pulling out the chair next to her. She could feel all their eyes on her and she knew she couldn’t refuse. 

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” She said in a quiet voice, she slipped into the chair gracefully and helped herself to the food, she could see that they didn’t have much so she only took a ladle full and the smallest piece of bread and cheese. “It smells delicious.”

“This is my husband Vekel and our little boy Torbald, he just turned nine the other day.” She said smiling proudly. 

“Hello.” Gadheriel nodded towards them as she ate, she felt awkward, like an intruder. It wasn’t often she interacted with civilians besides the ones in Solitude, and the ones outside were often hostile, she had no idea what to say, especially since it had fallen silent, “You have a very nice home.”

“Nothing like what they have in those Isles of yours I presume?” Vekel said gruffly, Adisla inhaled sharply and threw her a worried look.

She merely smiled, “Well, no it’s nothing similar, but that doesn’t mean it is…” She sighed, “Alright, fine. It’s nothing like what we have in the Summerset Isles, we have beautiful marble buildings with colored glass set in a picture.” She said dropping the meek house guest act. She frowned, “Material comforts only go so far.” She eventually said as she finished her food. “But at least I have a pretty building to come home to, even if it is empty.” With that she swept from the table and back to her temporary room. She grabbed the books and paperwork and set out for the inn once more. She set up in the corner and began her readings.

There wasn’t much in any of them, she could skim through them and learn everything, but it was this skimming that made her realize what was so funky about the soldiers files. There weren’t as many files as there were men and woman in uniform, but why? They were all wearing uniforms which means their paperwork had to be some place. She stormed into the General’s office, a room he had commandeered from the inn. Bastillion looked up and glowered at her, “What is it elf?”

“You will explain why there are more men than files.” She said crossing her arms, she spotted Varian in the corner he was looking at Bastillion curiously. 

“Perhaps they’ve been misplaced or lost, how do I know? I gave you everything I have.” He snapped, “Now if you don’t mind I have actual work to do.”

“Oh but you see General, I do mind. You are either withholding the paperwork for whatever nefarious reason, or you truly don’t have the paperwork, which makes me wonder, how many people in Imperial uniforms out there are actually Imperial soldiers and how many are not?” She said, Varian stood up and began searching the room.

“What are you doing General Tullius?” Bastillion asked grumpily.

“Well I’ve been wondering the same thing sir, I’ve seen plenty ignoring regulations and laws, and I thought that was strange myself.” He said, for once Gadheriel smiled, Tullius was siding with her. Ever since she had set foot in this town she had worried that it would be her against everyone including Varian. 

“Also on my short walk here I noticed there were a lot more nords than any other race in your ranks, why is that?” She asked sweetly, a smile on her face. Gods, how she hated this man.

“Look, our numbers have been dwindling. Stormcloaks have been raiding and ambushing not only us but civilians too. Frankly I don’t see the problem, I’ve recruited as I went. Anyone who wanted to join my garrison joined. I’ve picked up new soldiers each place I’ve went. I root out Stormcloaks, I add more men to the cause, what’s the issue?” 

“Did you ever stop to think that you may have recruited Stormcloak spies into your ranks?” Tullius said sharply, hands on his hips. “There is a reason we don’t just recruit anyone who walks off the streets, we vet them carefully so there aren’t any liabilities down the road!” 

“There is a time for caution and there is a time for war. Far as I know we are at war, we don’t have the luxury of being picky with who we recruit. The Legion is stretched thin in Skyrim, we both know that the Empire doesn’t take this rebellion seriously. They won’t send anymore troops, they find it a distraction towards the true war on our borders.” Bastillion’s eyes drifted over to her, “Speaking of which, you’re the only one in this room that we know for sure is fraternizing with the enemy.”

She could feel the heat in her cheeks as her eyes narrowed into a glare at the pompous man behind the desk, “This isn’t over yet General, since your men have nothing else to do with their time in this farmstead surely they could help the locals a bit instead of being a hindrance. Think of it as a little practice at relations.” She sneered, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the inn, she could hear Varian’s footfalls behind her. She took a deep breath of fresh air as she stood on the porch of the Inn and looked out at the dozens of soldiers either milling about looking busy or sitting around laughing boisterously, drinking and catcalling any woman that went past them. 

“I know it’s not ideal but Bastillion has a point—” He began, she couldn’t believe he was actually defending that man! She swiveled around and scowled at him.

“It’s not ideal?!” She shrieked, “There is something fishy going on here and I intend to figure it out, one way or another!”

“I’m not saying he should have recruited this way, there are undoubtedly spies in the ranks, and I’d be more than happy if you rooted them out for us but we could use more men—”

“That isn’t what I am talking about!” She sighed exasperated, “Look at how many there are! I have one hundred pieces of documentation and how many soldiers do you think are here? Three hundred?”

“Looks about right, what’s your point?” Varian asked 

“Bastillion’s excuse for not having documentation is basically he needed the men, but didn’t have the time to document them. What I find interesting however, is that he had the time and ability to get all these new soldiers fitting Imperial uniforms.” She said looking out at them again. 

Varian inhaled sharply as he peered out at the soldiers, “I will keep an eye on Bastillion and seek to question his Lieutenants. This does not bode well for the Legion.” 

“Nor for the Thalmor. I’ve got a job to do, I’ll see you back home tonight.” She began to descend the steps when he grabbed her arm.

“What’re you going to do?” 

“Well for starters, I have to find out what exactly is happening here, which means I get to question soldiers and civilians all day. We can trade information tonight at the house.” She turned to go but his hand still kept her still, he squeezed it a little and sighed, “Be careful alright? If something is going on here then Bastillion won’t like us poking our noses in it.”

“I hardly care what that beast likes or not—” She spat with disgust.

“Remember what I told you of Bastillion, he hates elves but more than that he is obsessive like a dog with a bone. He doesn’t care what the cost of winning is, if he had to sacrifice every soldier in his unit to win he would Gadheriel, imagine what he would do to you. Be. Careful.” He said in a quiet voice. 

She nodded, “I will, and you will be careful as well. I highly doubt Bastillion surrounds himself with men who think differently or who are disloyal to him.” She swept down the stairs unhindered this time and groaned at the number of people she had to interview, but first she needed to get out of these robes, not many would speak to her if she looked like a Thalmor. She opened the door to the house she was staying at and peered inside, she found Adisla at the sink washing up from lunch with the ingredients for dinner on the table. She looked up as Gadheriel entered and gave her a cautious smile, Gadheriel never realized the night before but she was actually very pretty with strawberry blond hair and light green eyes and dainty small features. “Adisla, I’m glad you’re here, I need your assistance.” 

She looked surprised but just dried her hands, and nodded, “Alright, what can I do for the Thalmor?” Her eyes shifted to a cabinet on her right apprehensively, Gadheriel frowned trying to remember anything about the night before but she had been so tired and distracted she hadn’t taken much note of the home. 

“Well for starters I need a dress of some sort that would fit me, I need to look not like a Thalmor. Do you have anything I could borrow?” She asked smiling a little to put the woman at ease. 

“Let me look, you are a fair bit taller than me but I think I have something my Mother-in-Law sent me, the old goat always hated me. She’d often send me clothes that she knew wouldn’t fit me just to spite me.” Adisla said as she walked quickly out of the room. While she was gone Gadheriel swooped over to the cabinet and opened it. Inside was an assortment of spices and herbs, potatoes, carrots and onions, but in the back on the middle shelf lay something large and covered with a dark crimson cloth. She reached in and pulled it forward, she lifted the cloth and breathed in sharply, it was a Talos shrine. She grabbed it and placed it on the table, shutting the cabinet doors. “The joke was always on her though, I used to make them into slippers and hats and send them back to her—” Adisla stepped back into the room and froze at the sight of the shrine. The bright red dress in her arms dropped to the floor and a look of horror plastered over her face.

“Sit, we have much to discuss.” Gadheriel said coolly. There was only a few things she hated more than Talos worshipers, Stormcloaks being one of them but even she found it hard to believe this woman would proudly worship a genocidal, power hungry maniac. Though of course, nords tended to forget the details they didn’t like, they preferred making pretty little lies to suit their fantasies. 

Adisla sat, her hands trembling and her face pale, she pushed the dress to the center of the table near the shrine then clenched her hands together, “Wh-What do you wish to know?”

“I want to know of your neighbors. Tell me what are they like? Do they also worship Talos? Do they support the Stormcloaks or the Imperials? What’re their daily routines? Was anyone acting oddly or causing problems any time recently, before or after the Imperials came? Did anyone have any life changing circumstances? Who lives where? How long? I need to know everything.” She said. 

Adisla’s lips pursed, “I won’t turn on my neighbors, my friends. That shrine is mine, and mine alone. There is no need for you to search elsewhere.” She said firmly raising her chin defiantly, a hard edge in her eyes.

She sighed in frustration, “Typical nords, you assume too much but know so very little.”

“Like you elves don’t do the same! You know so little about us, our way of life, you just dismiss it as inferior and cart us away to be your little playthings in that keep of yours!” Adisla yelled, tears rising in her eyes.

“You know so little about me and yet you dare accuse me of—” Gadheriel hissed feeling the rage begin to consume her, she breathed in and sat back, she wouldn’t allow this little nord woman to get under her skin. “You misunderstand, which is typical of your kind, you rather attack than bother taking one second to even attempt a single logical thought. I am not asking you to rat out your neighbors and friends in order to arrest them on Talos worship, I know very well that every person in this town has one, and yet do you see anyone in chains heading to Northwatch keep? No? Interesting, huh?”

Adisla shifted in her seat and sniffed, “Than why do you want to know? And if you already know about our shrines why not throw us away?”

“I may not agree in worshiping a power-hungry man who perpetuated one of the worst genocides in Tamriel’s history, second only to the other nordic genocide your race perpetuated, but it is not my job to wrangle Talos worshipers up. I would not waste my time herding sheep. I am after much bigger game. For now the Imperial occupation of Ivarstead has fallen into my lap and I need to know everything you do in order to help alleviate the situation.” She sneered.

“Talos was a great man—”

“To the nords. Listen to me Adisla, the Thalmor have invaded your country with hopes of eventually taking it over. Imagine us beginning to kill your people in a massive genocide, and the only reason we have to do so is because you won’t bow down to our invasion. Do you think that would give us the right to kill over half of the nords on Tamriel? Because that is what your great Tiber Septim did to the elves, that is the type of man you worship as a hero. It’s funny how you all get so offended when given a dose of your own medicine, but that is neither here nor there. I doubt any logical argument against Talos would be given a second of thought by brainwashed sheep, but whether you like it or not we are on the same side, momentarily. Help me to help you and your fellows. I get what I want and you get what you want.” 

Adisla clenched her mouth shut and breathed in, it took a few seconds but finally, “We are simple farmers, there isn’t much to tell. We have a town drunk he lives a few houses down, there is a love triangle going on between Fastred, Klimmek and Bassianus. I don’t know about Stormcloak or Imperial sympathizers, we don’t really talk politics out here. We are apart of the Rift and the Jarl supports the Stormcloaks but even she has misgivings about her loyalty, it has created a division among her people as well. We just want our lives back and to be left alone.” The woman said crossing her arms and leaning back. 

Gadheriel sighed, it wasn’t much to go on but it was a small town she doubted anything major happened here all too often, “All right, well thank you. And please if you could hide your shrine until I have left your small town I’d be grateful. It is a painful reminder of our peoples deaths. We just wanted to be left alone too.” She grabbed the dress off the table and swept in to her room down the hall. She changed fast, and wrinkled her nose in the mirror. The dress stopped a few inches above her knees but the nord woman was incredibly short for one of her type, she could see it had been taken in and shortened a bit. Apparently Adisla had liked the dress enough to not make it into slippers. Well, it would do for interviewing the men at least, they would hopefully be gawking at her and hopefully their lips would be loosened.

When she walked into the kitchen and was glad to see the shrine gone, even if Adisla looked anything but happy with her. She swept out of the house and started talking to the men, some of which she had documentation on and then the ones who didn’t, but it wasn’t until she began to talk to the civilians did things become more clear. She had realized while walking around that no townsfolk were out and about, they all seemed to stay in their homes as if they were prisoners or scared to leave their homes. She had knocked on most of the doors already to no avail, she knew people were inside, she could hear them shuffling around and shushing one another within. When she knocked on Fellstar farm however the door opened quickly and an older nord yelled right in her face, “Whatever it is we’ve given you all we got, now this is—” he stopped short as he looked at her, “Oh. I thought you were with those soldiers, are you?”

She shook her head, “No but I am here about them, if you have a few minutes to speak I’d be grateful. Everyone else seems…indisposed.”

“Everyone else around this damned town are cowards. They’ll send prayers up to Talos and hide in their closets the first sign of trouble. You want to speak of those hooligans the Legion consider soldiers? Well fine then come in, it’s only a matter of time before it happens here as well. Though we hardly have as much to offer as other places they’ve ravaged.” He said gruffly turning away from the door and walking over to the table where he sat and nursed an ale.

She closed the door and sat across from him, “Seems you have a bone to pick with these soldiers.” She stated calmly.

“Damn right I do! They roll into town, take over our homes, our businesses, our farms and leave us with nothing! Our lives revolve around them now, we’ve become their servants, and in return we get left alone. This isn’t right you know. Skyrim has been a part of the empire for a damn long time, we send them our resources and our sons and daughters to die by their side in anyway war they choose to start and this is how we get repaid?!” He ranted, taking a deep breath and another swig of ale, “Though I suppose it isn’t as bad as what I’ve heard happened to the other towns. It’s only a matter of time.”

She looked at him sharply, “What have you heard? Please, I need to know everything in order to help.”

“They’re just rumors, but surely you’ve noticed just how many nords this Imperial General has picked up since he came? Well according to the rumors he sweeps into towns and takes them over, occupies them. Then his men stationed in the houses search about and eavesdrop for anything they could use against the owner. Once they’ve sucked the town dry they ask if anyone is interested in joining. Few want to, but then he just pulls out what he knows. Stormcloak sympathizers go to the axe, but neutral or Imperial allies are blackmailed.” He answered, turning his head away to burp. 

She inhaled sharply, it certainly was possible but why had they not heard, even if they were ahead of Bastillion in their travels surely more rumors would have flown around by now. “How did you hear about this? Why don’t more people know?”

“A traveling merchant came by, he was riding very fast, said he wanted to warn others of what happened in Riverwood. Good man that, unfortunately doesn’t really help. Many didn’t believe him and even if we had, where would we go? Our entire lives are here, we can’t just get up and go—and where would we go where Bastillion wouldn’t eventually turn up? Nah, we’re stuck here.” He spit on the wooden floor and glared into the empty mug in his hands.

She doubted she would get anything else from this man, she stood up and gave him a little smile, “Thank you sir, I intend to get to the bottom of this. You’ve been very helpful.”

“Yeah, just put a good word in with the rest of the elves so you all will remember to leave me and mine alone.” He snapped towards her, she tensed and then sighed. It wasn’t the worst jab she had heard by far, in fact it was positively friendly.

“I believe I will.” She answered as she left the home, she had to find some of the newer soldiers, if they bent under pressure once they would undoubtedly do so again. She could feel the soldiers eyes on her as she walked down the line of tents their cat calls following her. She found a rather older nord cutting wood in an Imperial uniform. She walked up to him and smiled, “You seem far too old to be in the Legion, soldier.”

“The Legion needs as much help as they can get, I just want to do my part for my homeland, ma’am.” He said, he didn’t even look up at her or stop swinging the axe.

“Surely you would be better off doing the heavy lifting for the woman and children left home alone than out here battling against younger, stronger men with more energy and probably experience than you?” She pressed.

“A true nord is not a coward, no matter how you frame it. I’ll do my part and if I die my family will be able to live safe and sound.” He said quietly.

“So tell me just when did you join the Legion?” She asked

“A few weeks ago when they came through Falkreath, I joined up after hearing the General speak. I agreed with what he said. Skyrim needs the empire, what we don’t need is a power hungry maniac on the throne.” He said shortly.

She stepped closer and whispered in his ear, “Did you agree with him when he threatened you or before?” 

He tensed and she knew she had hit a sensitive spot. He jerked away from her, “I have things to do, and I’m sure you do as well, excuse me.” He said as he began to walk off. 

She followed adamantly, “If you just tell me the full truth I can guarantee that you won’t be held responsible and you’ll be freed.”

He turned around suddenly, his eyes blazing, “Can you guarantee that for my family as well?”

She was stunned, “Your family? What’s wrong with your family?”

He scoffed and shook his head, “I can’t believe it. No actually I can, you elves have no idea. I can’t talk to you, you’ll just get my family killed though I bet you’d enjoy that. You just leave me alone.” He snapped and this time when he walked away she didn’t follow. 

She sighed in frustration, she had to get one of the soldiers to talk to her. She kept searching the crowds until she came upon a soldier sitting at a grindstone, he looked so young, he couldn’t be out of his teen years yet. She sat on the bench a few feet away and said, “Nice day out.”

He looked over at her briefly and smiled nervously, he had piercing blue eyes and light brown hair, his features were still soft but becoming more chiseled and distinct, “Yes, much better than farther up north, the Rift has always been more welcoming, especially to travelers than places like Dawnstar.”

“Is that where you’re from?” She asked softly.

He shook his head, “No, I come from Dragon Bridge originally, but spent a few years in Riverwood, you ever been there?”

She nodded, “Yes, to both actually. Riverwood is my favorite place in Skyrim, the land is so beautiful and the people are polite.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I bet you don’t find that often here being an elf and all.” He remarked nervously. 

“You can say that again. Not many places my kind are welcome here.” She replied looking at the ground. The boy was kind, kinder than he’d be in a decade if the Thalmor didn’t win over Skyrim. He’d be just like the others, blindly hating elves while denying their own flaws. Children were always the victims in wars, even those that survived. 

“Nords have a bad history with elves and a good history holdin’ grudges.” He said smiling at her briefly.

“You’re far more perceptive than most nords I’ve met. You don’t have a problem with my kind than?” She asked quietly. 

He shook his head, “Never did me or my family harm or anyone I knew. I mean there are a few bad eggs I’ve heard about but I could name a dozen nords-gone-bad too.”

“What about the Thalmor? Surely you see them as a threat?” She could remember the days in Solitude before she had been captured, the days spent among the people searching for anyone like this. Hope for mankind. She studied him wondering who was playing who in this conversation. She had approached him with softness, young ones always seemed to open up to woman who were seen as passive and kind, it was the older ones who saw her kindness as an opportunity. 

He paused in his work, the grindstone coming to a screeching halt as he thought his answer over, “Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? They’ve invaded our land and decided who we can and can’t worship, and then drag people off to be tortured and never heard from again? I saw them once you know, they came in the night to Dragon Bridge, about four of’em. Dressed in their black and gold robes, some had elven armor on. They dragged my best friends father out of the house all tied up. His mother came running out of the house in her nightgown, tried to fight them off with an axe. I watched as they killed her and just left her bleeding out on the steps. My buddy held his mother’s body as they took his father away. Everyone was pushing him to go after his father, get’im back from the elves but he was too scared. He hung himself in his home ‘cause he was too afraid to go after the Thalmor, the shame was too much for him to bear. After he died I moved to Riverwood to start again.”

She breathed in deeply and sighed, “I’m sorry. Did they ever say why he was being taken away?”

“What’s it matter? You think praying to a man is such a grievous crime that he deserved to watch his wife murdered and then dragged away to be tortured to death?” 

She looked down, “No, no one deserves to be tortured.” She whispered, wincing as the memory of knives against her flesh rushed back. The blades had been so cold until they had sliced into her then it was burning hot. They had started at her ankles, worked themselves around the leg and then up, one cut after another, it had been so methodical. 

“You seem to know something about that.” His voice broke through her reverie, but it was much closer than she remembered, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw him next to her. 

“It hardly matters.” She said stiffly straightening her back, “So is that where the Imperial’s picked you up, in Riverwood?”

He nodded, “I joined up there yes, the General is very convincing. He has the right of it, Skyrim needs to be at peace, unified. How can we expect to defeat the Thalmor when they come here on our own? We need the Empire and the Empire needs us.” 

“Is that what sold you into service, or was it perhaps something else?” She asked

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said looking away from her.

“I think you do. I’ve had reports about corruption in the Legion. I plan to do something about it but I need at least one person to verify rumors.” She said quietly.

He grabbed a bottle of ale and took a sip, he offered her one but she shook her head. She hated the disgusting swill these nords drank, she missed the sweet wines and liquor’s offered in the Isles. “An elf and one with authority, either you’re a high-ranking officer in the Legion or a Thalmor in disguise, tell me which one are you?”

She looked into his eyes that now held a hard edge in them and sighed, “I’m a Thalmor in disguise as you say. Easier to get by without everyone glaring at you like you want to enslave them and eat their children.” 

“And you telling me you don’t?”

She snorted, “Hardly, I merely think we’ve been alive longer and could help other races advance as well. It would cure a lot of problems they face.”

“Oh really, is that why you drag us off in the middle of the night?” he scoffed.

“Hm, I doubt that’s the reason some of my colleagues choose to act as they do, but not every Thalmor is the same, we are after all, different people even if we share the same race.” She said, “Is every nord blacksmith the same?” 

He snorted, “That’s hardly the same, you work for people who invade, torture and kill. You ruin peoples lives.” 

“I’m trying to save lives here….I never got your name.” She realized, “Mine’s Gadheriel.” She offered, “Though if someone comes looking for me, please forget it.” 

“Ranmir. Saving lives huh, and what do you suppose we need saving from?” He said as he took another drink.

“Oh I don’t know an over-ambitious, obsessive, iron-fisted, ruthless Imperial General who will do anything to get his way and win.” She said loftily. 

“Anything, huh?”

“You tell me, you can’t tell me you ran away from Dragon Bridge to make a new life in Riverwood just so you could leave it all behind shortly after. Makes no sense.” 

“No but there are incentives to just doing the job I signed up for and not speaking to someone the General sees as an enemy.” 

“What kind of incentives? Incentives that he could actually meet, perhaps or something more vague?” She asked. “Come on, you’re barely eighteen, you don’t need to ruin your life like this.”

“Fighting for my country is ruining my life is it?” He snorted and shook his head.

“No, but Bastillion is rough with his soldiers, he is reckless and careless, he doesn’t care if he has to sacrifice all his men to get what he wants. You don’t need to risk your life fighting for a man who doesn’t give a shit if you die so long as it bags him the win.” She burst out. 

He paused and looked at her oddly, “You really mean it, you want to help? This ain’t some trick is it?”

She smiled softly and shook her head, “No, no trick. I want to help, plus the townsfolk are getting restless, they won’t put up with this for much longer. I’d much rather avoid a slaughter. Help me.”

He ran a hand through his hair and nodded, “Alright, alright but you have to promise to uphold the deal the General made with me.” 

She frowned but nodded, “Fine, so long as it doesn’t include murdering a bunch of my people, sure.”

“Look I got in some trouble at Dragon Bridge before I left, okay? That’s one of the reasons I moved to Riverwood. The guards were looking for whoever did it and they had begun to question me, it was only a matter of time. So I left and started fresh in Riverwood. The General somehow knew about it and knew that it was me. The last day he was there he had his men line anyone capable of fighting up and then brought us into his room in the inn one by one. He told me he knew of what I did to that girl in Dragon Bridge, said there was one of two ways my life could play out. He said he could have me arrested now and brought to Imperial Headquarters as a prisoner or I could join the Legion and fight by their side to redeem myself. If I did my name would be cleared at the end of the war, that I could go back to my old life, alright? So I joined up.” He told her in a quick and low voice. 

She swallowed, “What did you do?” 

He looked around him, his hands running over his arms, “Does it matter? Why do you need to know?”

“So I can verify your story, it’s important. I already told you I would uphold your agreement with the General, so what’s the problem?” She asked in a hard tone. 

“What’s the problem? Are you kidding me? How do I know that you won’t change your mind once I tell you? And how do I know that any of this won’t backfire on me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there’s hundreds of Imperials and only you.” He scoffed.

“I have my own man inside the Legion, don’t worry about it.” 

“You mean Tullius? That old man who got sidelined ‘cause he couldn’t even manage to catch one guy? You expect me to put my life in your hands because you trust this burned out old General? You gotta give me more than that.” He said.

“Tell me, what do you think you deserve for whatever you did to this girl?” She spoke icily. Her heart was already sinking at the thought of letting a predator off the hook but she needed to know. 

He breathed out, “It’ll always come back to that, won’t it? I ain’t proud of what I did but I can’t change it either. Am I supposed to pay for it for the rest of my life? I’m trying to make up for it.” 

“Don’t try to tell me this is redemption for you, you only joined up because you’d been caught. If you truly wished for redemption than you would have turned yourself in, but instead you ran. You have one chance at redemption and a new life, and that’s me. So tell me what you did.” She hissed.

“Fine, if that’s what you want. Fine.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his leg was jostling up and down, she could feel the anxiety leaking off of him in waves, “Look I-I was drunk, I didn’t mean to—I never would have done it otherwise okay? There was this real pretty girl—Fryssa. She lived a few doors down from me. I would see her pass our house every day to gather herbs for the alchemist in Solitude. I had feelings for her, she was so beautiful. I talked to her a few times too, she was shy but very funny once you got to know her. One day after work I got real drunk and I was walking home and I saw her on her way back to her house with a full basket of nirnroot. I talked to her, tried to flirt with her but she wasn’t having it. I just wanted to show her how much she meant to me so I kissed her but then she slapped me and began to run away. I don’t know why, maybe I was afraid how her father would react or something but I chased after her. I grabbed her and dragged her into an alley between two houses. She was crying, I just wanted her to stop crying, and I wanted her so much so I kissed her again thinking it would make things better but she just hit me again and again until I couldn’t take it anymore and I hit her back. She fell on the ground and her dressed pulled up, I could see her panties and I just lost it, completely. I got on top of her and ripped her panties off and—” 

She felt sick as she held her hand up, she inched away from him and turned her head away. “You raped her.” She finished shakily, her hands were trembling, how could she have misjudged this boy so horribly? She felt wrong sitting next to him, she was disgusted she had been so kind to him and appalled that she had given him immunity. 

“Yes and then afterward…I knew she’d tell someone so I had to—I had to keep her from saying anything so I held her dress over her mouth and nose until she stopped moving.” He finished breathlessly. 

She stood up and quickly moved away from him, “That’s all I needed to know, you’ve been a big help.”

“Our—Our agreement still holds, doesn’t it?” He asked shakily.

She jerked her head, “Yes. I keep my word. We’re done now, you can go back to work now soldier. I don’t need anything more.” She turned away and left as quickly as she could. She wanted to put as much space between the two of them as she could. Her skin was crawling and she felt as if she had been violated, she thought of that poor girl lying dead and defiled in the alleyway and wanted to throw up. She made a beeline for the house and threw open the door, she could see the family at the table, all of their eyes were suddenly fixated on her, “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt..” She said breathlessly. 

They were looking at her in surprise, she could see the hint of distrust behind Adisla’s eyes and the glint of anger in Vekel’s eyes, the boy Torbald looked at her in fear. It was the same look everyone always gave her but after what she had just heard it was too much. That poor girl probably looked the same. She had to have been terrified, in pain, crying and screaming, why had no one heard the girl? Why had no one heard her when she had screamed for days in the wilderness of Windhelm? 

Vekel came towards her and grabbed her arm, “Is everything alright? Come on, you look pale and you’re trembling, sit down.”

“No, please—I don’t wish to be a burden. I just need—I need…Where is Varian?” She asked quietly. 

“General Tullius hasn’t returned yet, it’s just us. Please sit, you look fit to collapse.” He said leading her over to a chair, he pulled it out for her and she fell into it. She was mortified that these people were seeing her like this, she wished Varian would come soon. “What’s happened?”

She shook her head, “Nothing, just been talking to the soldiers and townsfolk to see what exactly is going on here.” She said softly. She jumped in her seat as a cup of tea was placed before her. She jerked her head up and saw Adisla holding a teapot.

“My apologies ma’am.” She said softly.

Gadheriel shook her head, “Its not a problem.” She whispered, somehow Talos worship paled in comparison to what she had just done. These people worshiped a man they never knew after years of brainwashing, but she had let a rapist and murderer walk free. The two didn’t really compare. She took a sip of the warm tea and the soothing taste of chamomile washed over her, she focused in on it trying to distract herself from the horrible story she had just heard and the demons it awoke in her. Demons she wasn’t nearly done fighting within herself. 

She closed her eyes and sighed, “Thank you.” She said quietly, when she opened her eyes they were both sitting once again, framing her with looks of curiosity and concern. Concern she hardly deserved after how she had treated Adisla. 

“What’s going on Mommy?” Torbald said breaking the silence that had fallen in the kitchen. 

“Nothing sweetheart, our guest is just a bit upset is all, never mind that you just eat your food and then get ready for bed.” Adisla said warmly, the affection in her eyes as she looked at the boy was overwhelming, it made her heart ache. Vekel began loading a plate with food, pheasant, stewed carrots and baked potatoes were set before her. 

“Whatever happened is over now, and you need to put some meat on your bones, far too skinny even for an elf.” Vekel said gruffly, she picked up the fork Adisla set next to her and she picked at her food. It was hard to eat when her mind kept running in a loop. She’d think of that girl, and of herself, than try to distract herself only to be led right back to the girl again. She forced the food into her mouth but only managed to clean half the plate before she couldn’t eat any more. Torbald ran off a few minutes later leaving them alone in the room, “Dinner was very good, thank you. I..we must be an expense for you to board, we’ll make sure to compensate you when we leave.”

“Don’t be silly, honestly you two are hardly an issue. We consider ourselves lucky Bodil and Gestur, our neighbors, they’re housing some of the soldiers and they’ve completely taken over their house. They have three young children and they’re all sleeping in one bed. The soldiers are barely leaving them any food and they’re beginning to harrass Bodil. You two are polite and considerate, and we hardly see either of you, our lives haven’t changed that much since we took you in. It was good for us considering had you not come along we’d undoubtedly have to house some of Bastillion’s men.” Adisla said as she began to clear up the table.

She got up to help, perhaps putting her hands to use would get her mind off things, “I’m glad we can be of some use to you then, have you heard from Varian today at all?”

Vekel shook his head as he grabbed an ale off the shelf, “Not today we haven’t, seen him running off with Bastillion some place earlier they returned a few hours ago and that was it. Something happening we should know about?”

She sighed and shook her head, “No but I’ve made leeway in my investigation and I really need to talk to him about it. He can get that damn General’s cooperation better than I can. Might even be enough to get his head sent to the Embassy on a silver platter if I’m lucky.” She sneered, she knew of Bastillion long before he came to Skyrim. He had killed some of her closest friends in the war, and countless others, not even counting the elves he detained and tortured. A few had been released and sent back to their camp to show what happened to elves who messed with him. The things he had done to them were unforgivable. She could still remember what happened to Melaran, he was around her age and quite handsome. He was definitely a ladies man rumored to have slept with quite a few of his superiors. Then one day a few horses rode by their headquarters and threw a body on the ground. She had been there updating their General on her troops and had rushed to the body. It was young Melaran, he was bruised and cut up, she could see his arms hung at odd angles and there were words carved into his chest. It was later that the healers had told them just what had been done to him. They had sliced off his testicles, shoved a burning hot fire poker up his ass and carved ‘the whore screamed’ into his chest after cutting off his nipples and giving him a savage beating. He died a few days later, it was almost a blessing he never woke up from the coma. She would have Bastillion’s head one way or another. 

Vekel and Adisla shared looks and then turned to her, she wondered which of the two would speak first, it was Vekel, “What good would his death be, we still need to win this war with the Stormcloaks.”

“Maybe so but there are other General’s, better ones that can fight the Stormcloaks. I want their deaths just as much as any other sane person, but that man will answer for what he’s done.” She hissed, she could feel the heat rising in her face and she set the wash rag down and bowed her head. She blew out a deep breath and said quietly, “It’s been a very long day, you got anything stronger than tea?”

Vekel chuckled, “Sure do lass, sit down here and join me. Adisla can finish up the dishes, you did most of’em anyway, thanks.” She nodded and fell into the chair once again, grabbing the ale he offered. She may miss the wines and liquors of the Isles but she needed a drink desperately. She sipped it slowly and scrunched her nose up at the repugnant taste. She forced herself to swallow and take another sip, the heat building in her stomach slowly spread out and she could feel herself relaxing with every sip. 

She looked around her at the simple kitchen and the happy, content couple within it and smiled bitterly, perhaps it wasn’t exactly her dream but she hadn’t been blind the last two days either. She could see how they adored each other and were content with what they had even if it was so little in comparison to what it could be. The glamour was nice but it wasn’t nearly everything, no everything was already here in this home. Vekel and Adisla had it, the glamour just added to it. Her thoughts drifted to Varian and wondered if he was enough to be everything to her, but she shook her head, it wasn’t so simple. They weren’t two nords living in Skyrim, they were an elf and an imperial on opposing sides of the war temporarily working together for divines knows what reason. Regardless, she just wished Varian was there. 

She spent the next few hours with the family, she mostly watched their interaction with one another but every once in a while she would chime in. It was cozy and she was exhausted, the tea and good company had calmed her but still she missed Varian. She waited up long after the others went to bed but by the time the moon was directly over head he still hadn’t returned, it didn’t take long to fall into a deep sleep. 

The sounds of breaking glass woke her a few hours later, she jerked her head up and froze. She listened closely but could hear nothing else, she rose and muffled her feet with a quick spell. She walked slowly down the hall as her eyes adjusted to the pitch blackness of the hallway compared to the candlelit kitchen. She peered into Vekel and Adisla’s room but they were sleeping soundly, Torbald was the same and Varian’s room was completely empty. She sighed, apparently her visitor from the night before had come back and done more than knock on the window this time. She pushed open her door and sure enough in the middle of the floor was a large rock surrounded by shards of broken glass. She stepped around the glass as much as she could as she approached the window but halfway there she stepped on one with a loud crunch. She held her breath and listened more closely, but all was silent. Her heart was pounding, her body was tense and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She leaned out the window but what she saw took her breath away, directly below the window was a small footstool. As she backed away and went to turn around a hand went over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her stomach. She screamed but it was muffled by the man’s hand, he lifted her off the ground and tried to shove her out the window but she braced her feet against the window casing on either side of the window. 

She shoved herself backward with all her strength toppling the guy, and herself, to the ground. She rolled off of him and backpedaled a few feet before sending a paralyzation spell at him but he rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet, she raised her hands once again and sent a bolt of lightning his way. He dived out of the way and then ran towards her, she centered her magic and then let it crawl all over her, seconds later her body burst into flames just as the man slammed into her. They crashed against the wall and she grabbed onto the man as he screamed. Seconds later she heard loud and fast footfalls coming from down the hall and then Vekel wielding an axe came in, he assessed the situation faster than she expected for a nord and quickly yanked the man off of her. He raised the axe but the man was still on fire and screaming he slammed himself into Vekel who grunted as the flames burned him as well. The man dropped to the ground trying to smother the fire and she attempted to paralyze him, she could see Vekel raising his axe again and screamed, “NO! I want him alive!” 

Vekel looked up at her and yelled, “Are you insane?!” The man got up and she sent another few bolts of lightning at him but he was running fast towards the window. He jumped out of it, she ran after him pausing only for a few seconds to summon a dremora lord. 

“A challenger is near! You can not escape me! I will feast on your heart!” He screamed as he began running after the fleeing man with his daedric sword raised and ready for attack.

“I want him alive Valkynaz, you can feast on his heart later, you hear me?!” She yelled after him as she placed her hands on the window sill and launched herself out after them both. 

“You _are_ crazy!” Vekel yelled out the window as she raced off. 

She was getting fed up with these constant attacks, and the need to always be looking over her shoulder. She could only imagine what would have happened had she been in her room when he came. She squinted her eyes trying to see the man but she could only make out the faintly glowing red of her dremora chasing after him. She suddenly heard the man yell and her dremora cry out in victory, “ALIVE! I want him alive Valkynaz or I will take it out on your hide!” 

The dremora lord looked back at her, giving the man time to get up once again, he ran into the woods, she followed using the sound of the leaves crunching beneath his feet, but soon the sound faded and she was left half a mile in the woods in the dark with no idea where he was, she looked to her dremora who looked around, “Nothing here after all..”

She snorted and turned away, “Keep your eyes open, he could be coming back around for an attack.” But where had he gone without making a single sound? As she retraced her steps through the woods she noticed something strange hanging off a low tree branch, she stepped closer and held a mage light in her hand. It illuminated a black cloth with gold embroidery, magic hummed through it and her body went cold. He hadn’t disappeared, he had just muffled his movements but why hadn’t he used any magic? She sighed, this didn’t make any sense but she needed a lot more sleep than she had been able to fit in before the attack to figure it out. She opened the front door to the house and saw Vekel and Adisla sitting at the table, both looked at her as she came in.

“Well did ya catch the bastard?” He asked gruffly

She shook her head, “No he got away. My dremora got him good though, that’ll hurt the son of a bitch for a while.” She smirked thinking of it. “I’m sorry for waking you, and for your window, I’ll fix it tomorrow, I just need to sleep.”

“You aren’t sleeping in there that’s for sure, take the General’s room, he ain’t coming back tonight if he hasn’t already. We went up there and tried to tell him what was going on but Bastillion’s damn men wouldn’t let us in and refused to go fetch him for us. Said Imperial business was far more important than some nords broken window.” He growled as he got up.

“Thanks, I’ll see him tomorrow.” She said quietly. 

“Did you know him?” Adisla asked, she looked at her oddly, “It’s just that you wanted him alive, and the way you fought seemed almost matched.”

“It wasn’t. He was holding back, I don’t know exactly who he is but I know what he is and that’s good enough for me.” She replied tiredly, “Goodnight, again.” She turned and made her way to Varian’s room. She dropped into the bed, exhausted and aching from the fight and chase. The last thought she had before she went to sleep was how angry Elenwen would be that her assassin nearly got murdered by a damn nord and a mess-up thalmor like her.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it so far. If you'd like to leave comments please do so, thanks!
> 
> Bethesda owns everything, including my soul.


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